The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,7

losing them, but not the pain of actual loss. I think it would be worse than I can ever imagine. To know one’s children will never grow up … except … what of his other child? Though she must be all grown up by now.

“Is Anyi okay?” she asked.

Cery stilled, then drew away. His expression was taut with indecision. “I don’t know. I’ve let people think that I didn’t care about Vesta and Anyi after they left, for their own protection – though I’ve occasionally arranged for Anyi and I to cross each other’s paths so she would at least continue to recognise me.” He shook his head. “Whoever did this, got past the best locks money can buy, and people I trusted completely. They did their research. They might know about her. Or they know, but they don’t know her location. If I check on her I might lead them to her.”

“Can you get a warning to her?”

He frowned. “Yes. Perhaps …” He sighed. “I have to try.”

“What will you tell her to do?”

“Hide.”

“Then it won’t matter if you lead them to her or not, will it? She’ll have to go into hiding either way.”

He looked thoughtful. “I suppose so.”

Sonea smiled as a look of determination hardened his face. His entire body was now tense. He looked at her and his expression became apologetic.

“Go on,” she said. “And next time don’t wait so long to visit me.”

He managed a faint smile. “I won’t. Oh. Also, there’s something else. It’s just a niggle, but I reckon one of the new Thieves, Skellin, fancies having his own magician. He’s a rot supplier, so you better hope none of your magicians has a weakness for the stuff.”

“They’re not my magicians, Cery,” she reminded him, not for the first time.

Instead of his usual grin, he responded with a grimace. “Yes. Anyway. Unless you want to know how I get in and out of here, you better leave the room.”

Sonea rolled her eyes, then walked to the bedroom door. She turned back before closing it. “Good night, Cery. I’m so sorry about your family and I hope Anyi is alive and not in any danger.”

He nodded, then swallowed. “I do, too.”

Then she closed the door behind her and waited. There were a few faint thuds from the guest room, then silence. She counted to a hundred then opened the door again. The room was unoccupied. She could see no sign of his entrance and exit.

The darkness between the window screens was not so impenetrable now. It had gained a greyish tone, a hint of shape and form just discernible in the early morning light. She took a step toward it and stopped. Was that the square bulk of the High Lord’s Residence, or was she imagining it? Either way, the suggestion sent a shiver down her spine.

Stop it. He’s not there.

Balkan had lived there for the last twenty years. She had often wondered whether he felt haunted by the shadow of the former occupant, but had never asked, sure such a question would be tactless.

He’s up on the hill. Behind you.

She turned and looked beyond the walls, seeing in her imagination the shiny white new stone slabs among the grey of the ancient cemetery. An old longing filled her, but she hesitated. She had much to do today. But it was early – dawn was only just breaking. She had time. And it had been a while. Cery’s terrible news brought a need to … to what? Perhaps to acknowledge his loss by recalling her own. She needed to do more than act out the usual daily routine and pretend something awful hadn’t happened.

Returning to her bedroom, she washed and changed quickly, threw a cloak around her shoulders – black over black – then slipped out of the main door to her room, walked as quietly as she could down the hall of the Magicians’ Quarters to the entrance and out onto the path to the cemetery.

New paths had been laid since the first time she’d visited, with Lord Rothen, over twenty years before. Weedy vegetation had been removed, but the Guild had left a wall of protective trees around the outermost graves. She noted the smooth slabs of freshly carved stone. Some she had seen laid, some she hadn’t. When a magician died, any magic left in his or her body was released, and if there was enough of it their body was consumed. So the old graves had been a mystery. If