The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,97

if he acts a bit nervous.”

“He’s the sort that’ll cooperate with whoever he’s most scared of,” Cery replied. “If he knows she has magic he’ll be more scared of her than us.”

“She sent him out of the room before she opened the safe. That suggests to me he doesn’t know she has magic.”

“Yes, but …”

Gol hissed. Cery looked at the man and found him staring out of the window.

“What?”

“Is that her? In front of Makkin’s shop.”

Cery spun back to the window. A stooped woman had stopped in front of the shop. Her hair was streaked with grey. For a moment Cery was sure Gol was mistaken – so much so that he was about to tease him – then the woman turned her head to survey the street. He felt a shiver of recognition.

He looked at Gol. Gol stared at him. Then they both looked down at the wraps they were wearing.

“I’ll go,” Gol said. “You watch.” He leapt over to the pile of clothes he’d removed and hastily began to dress. Cery turned back to the window and watched as the woman entered the shop.

His heart was hammering. He felt every muscle in his body slowly tense, and counted every breath.

“She still in there?”

“Yes,” Cery replied. “Whatever you do, don’t let her see you’re following her. Even if you have to pay someone to—”

“I know, I know,” Gol said impatiently. Cery heard him open the door. At the same time he saw the door to the shop open and the woman stepped out.

“She’s leaving,” he said.

Gol didn’t reply. Cery turned to find the big man gone and the door swinging open. He looked back down into the street and caught a glimpse of the woman just before she moved out of view. A moment later Gol appeared. Cery breathed a sigh of relief as his friend and bodyguard headed in the same direction, his steps confident.

Take care, old friend, Cery thought.

“Um … sorry for the wait.”

He turned to find the bathhouse girl standing in the doorway. Her eyes shifted from him to the window screen then to the floor. Cery closed the screen and stood up.

“The bath is ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. My friend had to leave. Take me to the bath.”

Her shoulders drooped at the loss of a customer, then she gestured for him to follow and led him out of the room.

CHAPTER 18

THE TRAITOR

As the slave whimpered, his head squeezed between the large hands of Ashaki Tikako, Dannyl couldn’t help wincing. Though Dannyl had never had his mind read by a black magician, if the reaction of this man’s slaves was anything to go by, he gathered it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

Tikako gave a gasp of anger and frustration and thrust the slave away. The man fell back onto a shoulder, then scrambled away on all fours as his master shouted at him to leave. The slaves kneeling nearby, waiting their turn to be questioned, hunched as the Ashaki’s attention turned to them.

There weren’t many slaves left. Dannyl had counted over eighty so far. None of them had produced any useful information about Lorkin and Tyvara. They couldn’t even confirm if Tyvara had ever spoken to anyone within the estate.

The master’s finger jabbed, and a young woman reluctantly came forward, shuffling on knees reddened from long contact with the rough stone pavement. Tikako grabbed her head before she had even settled before him. Her brows knit together, and Dannyl could not help holding his breath and hoping she would prove to be holding the secret to Lorkin’s whereabouts, even if that did mean she would probably be killed for not coming forward with the information when her master first demanded it.

After a long pause Tikako stared at her, then with a wordless roar of fury he half lifted, half tossed her away from him. Her eyes flew open as he sent her flying across the room. She crashed into one of the large pottery jugs spaced along the walls, from which pretty, flowering plants spilled. Rising to a sitting position, she blinked slowly, her eyes glazed.

Dannyl bit back yet another curse. The brutality of these people. They like to think they are so dignified, with all their rituals and hierarchy, but underneath they still are as cruel as the histories have always described them. After today, Dannyl knew he would not easily forget why the Sachakans were so feared, even when his hosts were being perfectly respectful and well mannered. It was not the power they held that made them