The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,74
the briefest moment, an intense look in her eyes, but quickly dropped her head again. He saw her teeth flash as they pressed against her lower lip, then she grimaced.
“What is it?” he asked. She is afraid. How does this affect her? Of course! She will be punished if it is thought she didn’t please me. “What will they do to you?”
“They will … they will send someone else. And another.” And they will all be punished, her words seemed to hint.
He bit back a curse. “If they do, I will ask for you. If you want me to, of course,” he added. “We will talk. Tell each other about ourselves and our countries, or something. I don’t see how I’m going to learn about Sachaka otherwise, shut up in the Guild House – and I’d really like to know more about your people. And yourself. How does that sound? Will it work?”
She paused, then nodded. Relieved, he took in a deep breath and let it out again. “So tell me something about yourself, then. Where were you born?”
Even as she began to describe the breeding house where she had been raised, he felt the horror of her story eased by something inexplicable. She was talking to him. Finally a Sachakan was actually communicating with him beyond orders and answers. It had never occurred to him that he might be lonely in Sachaka. Listening to her, he realised she suddenly seemed much more human – something he might come to regret later. But for now he relaxed and listened to the beautiful, hypnotic voice of this slave woman, and savoured every word.
The roof of the pawnshop was surprisingly well constructed. Cery and Gol had crawled out on it a few hours ago, when the full darkness of night had set in. They’d separated the tiles they’d sent a street urchin up to loosen for them earlier that day, and now were looking through cracks between them down at the room where Makkin the Buyer kept his safebox.
Inside that safebox were Makkin’s most valuable books, including a new volume about Healing magic. After visiting the shop, pretending to view the book for the first time and making sure Makkin didn’t sell it before Cery could return with the money for it, Cery had visited a few of the drinking establishments they patronised to boast about the special volume he’d be buying just as soon as someone paid their debt to him – which would probably be tomorrow.
It could be a long night, Cery thought, carefully stretching the stiffness out of one leg. But if all goes to plan we won’t have to lie out here in the night air for more than one. We just have to hope the Thief Hunter is a magician … and has the hunger for knowledge we assume he has … and has heard about my boasting today … and hasn’t got something more important to do tonight.
Cery had to admit he was acting on only rumour and guesses. He could easily be wrong about a great number of things. The magician that had opened the locks in Cery’s hideout might not be the Thief Hunter. He might have been in the employ of the Thief Hunter, or someone else. He might not be a customer of Makkin’s.
But this is not so wild an idea that it’s not worth trying. And it’s the only lead we have.
Shifting his weight, he stretched the other leg. At times like this he was all too aware that he was getting older. He could not climb up the sides of buildings using only a few handholds or a rope, or leap the gaps between them so fearlessly. His muscles stiffened up quickly in the cold air, and took longer to recover from exertion.
And I don’t have a beautiful Sachakan woman nearby to catch me with her magic if the roof collapses.
Old, pleasant memories flashed through his mind. Savara. Mysterious. Seductive. Dangerous. A skilled fighter. The practice bouts he’d had with her had been challenging and exciting, and he’d picked up more than a few new tricks. She’d known too much about the deal he’d made with High Lord Akkarin to kill off the freed Sachakan slaves that the Ichani had sent to Imardin as spies, and to expose the Guild’s weaknesses. But he’d also sensed that he’d not easily get rid of her. That it was better to keep her occupied thinking she was helping him, without letting her get