The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,55
records or libraries,” he warned. “All our libraries are privately owned, and you have to get permission from Master Richaki to view the palace records.”
Achati nodded. “I’m on good terms with most of the library owners in Arvice.” He looked at Dannyl. “If you’d like, I can introduce you and see if we can gain access to some of them.”
“I would be most grateful if you did,” Dannyl replied.
Achati smiled. “It’ll be easy. They’ll all want to meet the latest Guild Ambassador. Only trouble you might have is getting them to leave you alone long enough to read anything. Is there any aspect of history that you are most interested in?”
“The older, the better. And …” Dannyl paused to consider how to phrase what he wanted to say. “While I’d like to fill the gaps in my knowledge of Sachakan history, I’m also interested in anything that might fill some of the gaps in Kryalian history as well.”
“You have gaps?” Kirota’s eyebrows rose again. “But then, don’t we all?” He smiled, the lines on his thin face deepening and making Dannyl realise the man was older than he’d first guessed. “Perhaps you can help me fill some of the gaps in ours as well, Ambassador Dannyl.”
Dannyl nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
As Achati looked around the room, perhaps to check if he’d neglected to introduce anyone yet, Dannyl realised that, despite being surrounded by black magicians, he felt perfectly at ease. These were men of power and influence, and he’d had plenty of dealings with such men in the past. Perhaps this role should not be much harder than it was in Elyne. Not that that one was easy. And it seems black magic is no obstacle to having scholarly interests, too. He felt a tingle of anticipation, thinking of the records he might stumble upon in these private libraries Achati had mentioned. Then he felt a twinge of guilt and sadness. It would have been good to share the discoveries with Tayend. But I’m not sure he’d be that interested now. And for all that these men seem friendly, he is safer back in Kyralia.
The crowd outside the Northside Hospice was smaller than usual. Pale faces turned toward the carriage, eyes bright with hope but expressions guarded. As the vehicle turned and passed between the gates, Sonea sighed.
When the hospices had first opened, hordes of sick had gathered outside the doors, along with those hopeful of seeing the legendary slum magician, former exile and defender of Kyralia. Those not intimidated by her black robes had surrounded her, begging or babbling, making it difficult to get inside the hospice and do the work she needed to do. She could not bring herself to push them away with magic. Other Healers had experienced similar problems, as the sick not yet admitted to the hospice, or their families, begged and pleaded for help.
So enclosed carriageways had been built beside the hospices, with guards to man the gates, and a side entrance. They allowed Healers to arrive and get from carriage to hospice without being harassed.
Sonea waited until the guards called out to indicate all was clear, then climbed out of the carriage. As she turned to smile in thanks, the two guards bowed. She heard the side door to the hospice open.
“ … and it’s about time – oh!”
Sonea turned to see Healer Ollia staring at her in horror.
“Sorry, er, Black Magician Sonea. I was … we were …”
“It’s I who should be apologising.” Sonea smiled. “I’m late. Or rather, Healer Draven is. His mother has fallen ill, suddenly, so I’m stepping in for him.” She stepped aside and nodded to the carriage. “Go on. You must be tired.”
“Um. Thank you.” Flushed, Ollia hurried past and climbed into the vehicle.
Turning away, Sonea entered the hospice. A large room full of supplies with a central area of seating for exhausted Healers and helpers formed a sanctuary of privacy between the carriageway entrance and the public rooms. A young woman in green robes was sitting in one of the chairs, the edge of her mouth quirked up in a wry smile.
“Good evening, Black Magician Sonea,” Nikea said.
“Healer Nikea,” Sonea replied. She liked Nikea. The young Healer had first volunteered to help in the hospice not long after joining the Guild, and discovered a love of both healing and helping people. Her parents were servants for a family of one of the less powerful Houses. “Looks quiet here tonight.”