The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,85

filled in. I’d fix them myself, but if the Guild discovered a Thief repairing their underground passages I don’t think they’d be too pleased. I doubt they’d accept the excuse that all I really want is to be able to meet up with Sonea now and then.

Cery’s heart was still beating quickly, but more from excitement than fear now. Sneaking into the Guild always gave him a childish thrill. Skirting dangerous areas or cave-ins made Cery’s path more complicated than it needed to be, but once he was under the University foundations things improved. The passage from the University to the Magicians’ Quarters was the most worrying, as it was the only underground route between the buildings. Its main function was as a sewer, with a maintenance shelf along one side of the ditch. But nobody had maintained it for years, he suspected. Water ran from cracks in the walls and seeped down through the domed ceiling.

One day there’ll be a cave-in, and they’re going to discover a rather fragrant downside to not servicing their sewer.

Once under the Quarters’ foundations, the passage widened a little. Numbers had been carved below rectangular holes in the ceiling. He found the one he was looking for, set his lamp down in a dry spot, then climbed up the wall into the opening.

This was the hardest part of the journey. The openings were at the base of some sort of unused chute system that connected to the roof of the building above. Clean air constantly flowed down them. He had two favourite theories: either it was a ventilation system to keep the sewer air from getting too poisonous, or it was a rubbish disposal system designed not to reek of the sewer below.

The interior was small, but thankfully dry. He climbed slowly, taking his time and resting often. One day I’m going to be too old to do this. Then I’ll have to walk in via the Guild Gates. Or Sonea will have to come see me.

Finally, he reached the wall behind her rooms. He’d removed a section of bricks long ago, exposing the wood panelling behind. He put his eye to the spy hole he’d drilled into the wood.

The room beyond was dark and empty. But that was the usual situation at this time of night. He carefully and quietly grasped the handles he’d attached to the back of a section of panelling, lifted and twisted.

The panelling squeaked a little as it came free. I should bring some wax next time to fix that, he thought. He stepped through the opening, then set the panelling back in place.

It was a matter of some pride and satisfaction to him that Sonea had never seen him enter this way. She insisted on not knowing how he entered or left her rooms. The less she knew, the better for the both of them. It was not mortally dangerous to come here, but the consequences wouldn’t be good for her if his visits were discovered, and that knowledge tempered the mischievous delight he felt at reaching her quarters unnoticed.

He made a few deliberate noises, knocking against furniture and stepping on a floorboard he knew creaked, then waited. But she did not emerge from the bedroom. Moving to the door, he opened it a crack. The bed was neat and unused. The room was empty.

Disappointment extinguished the lingering excitement of his journey. He sat down. She had never been absent before. I never considered she might not be here. What do I do now? Wait for her?

But if someone else returned with her it would be a bit awkward. He’d have no time to escape to the chute. And the chute was too uncomfortable a place to wait and watch for her.

Cursing under his breath, he stood up again and quietly searched her furniture. He found what he sought in a drawer: paper and a pen. Tearing a small corner from a sheet of paper, he drew a tiny picture of a ceryni, the rodent that was his namesake, and slipped it under the door to her bedroom.

Then he returned to the panelling and started the long journey home.

The slave that greeted Dannyl at the door of the Guild House was especially quick to abase himself. Too many exciting discoveries were hovering at the fore of Dannyl’s thoughts, however, and he did not register what the man said. On the way home from the palace, he had written in his notebook as much as he could of what