Cery jumped out of the elaborate guild carriage, pausing only to glance back and the shadowy figure still inside.

"I'll be right on it, Si… High Lord" he promised, before scurrying into the crowd and becoming lost in the hustle and bustle. He planned first to stop at the thieves hideout where Sonea had last been housed, hoping to find Faren. Since she had been captured on Faren's watch, Cery suspected that the thief and his customers would consider there to be a debt to pay, and Cery'd need all manner of favours to carry out what Akkarin, the High Lord had asked for him. First off, Cery would have to extend his job with the thieves: fetching, carrying, and the occasional murder. Soon, he hoped, Faren would trust (or need, depending on his image after the Sonea fiasco) him enough to heed his suggestion over searching for the foreign murderers. That would work…but would it take too long? Perhaps he should use more direct methods, so the High Lord could get fast results. Cery had to admit, it was an odd request, but then was it not an odd circumstance? Who would have thought that he, Ceryni by name and by nature, a slum boy, would have the power to help Akkarin, High Lord of the only magical guild in the allied lands?

As the carriage bumped and jolted on the uneven cobbles of the Northern Quarter, Akkarin leaned back in his seat and sighed contentedly. He had taken a big risk in asking for Cery's aid, but it was one, he felt, that would be worth it. It would be a huge advantage to have a slum dweller, and link to the thieves (however tenuous) on his side. Plus, Cery was loyal: shown in his actions, and –when Akkarin had read the surface thoughts- his mind. Indeed, he was quite satisfied. All was going according to plan, and with additional assistance, the safety of Kyralia -a cause to which he was committed-, was just a little more assured. Only one thing was marring his good mood: lying to Administrator Lorlen, his second in command and best friend of sixteen years never got easier.

"Maybe I can tell…but no. I swore I would never! Lorlen wouldn't understand, he wouldn't believe me, and who could blame him! This story, this truth is insane!"

A small voice, in the dark recesses of his mind whispered "But how do you know…until you have told him, you have cannot be sure!" This was true, Akkarin mused…and yet, it was not an acceptable risk. How could he call himself a protector, and yet risk the entire city's safety on one person! Even if it was his best friend….

No. What Lorlen didn't know couldn't hurt him.

His mood spoiled, Akkarin glanced out of the window, at the underprivileged, yet proud people on the streets. Their lives were little better than those of the slum dwellers, yet their bearing showed a dignity the dwells lacked. Funny how a simple wall changed so much about a person. As he observed, an old lady, bent with age, wearing rags not fit to scrub floors and clasping a bundle of clothes in a basket spat at the carriage. Immediately, a guard kicked out, catching her in the back and causing her to drop her basket into the mud. Grabbing it, she cursed at the guard and scuttled away into the shadows, before the guard could take aim once more. Akkarin sighed, massaging his temple with one hand. This poverty, so close to the guild and the place was wrong: he would inform Lorlen, and divert some guild funds towards charitable endeavours.

The carriage soon left the Northern quarters behind, and passed through the Guild gates with no trouble. As he stepped off the carriage, a servant runner skidded to a halt, bowed hastily, and gasped

"My lord! Director Jerrick would like to see you, regarding the summer intake. He says it is urgent!" Within moment, thoughts of Sachakan magicians had fled, and he was once again embroiled in the latest Guild problem.

Faren was pacing in his headquarters, sweating slightly. It was a disaster! Sonea's capture was inevitable, but someone had leaked it and his reputation was in tatters! He'd be lucky if he was still a thief by the end of the month! Pausing, Faren considered taking his money and running, perhaps to Elyne, where he could retire or even begin a new Thieves council! Yes, that could work… the sea travel could be a bit rough, bit it'd be worth it. And Faren had heard that the climate was much improved…

Before he could think any more on the subject, a small hand covered his eyes, and a dagger dug into his neck. A drop of blood trickled down Faren's neck and soaked into the rough weave of his shirt.

"No sound. One noise and I'll ram this through you're throat, and that would be bad for both of us, I think you'll agree."

The voice was rough, Faren noted. Probably disguised. He only hoped that he was dealing with an amateur, and that the demands wouldn't be too unreasonable. If that was the case, his attacker would likely wait a while for his reward. It would never arrive of course. Faren would send a knife to kill him, perhaps Ceryni- he was extremely promising.

"What…what do you want?" Sweat beaded Faren's forehead.

"Want? Oh, nothing much. No money, in any case. I just want you to remember that your watchers are not infallible."

This attacker was right. Faren made a mental note to have the inept watchers done, then in a slightly less shaky voice asked
"Well then why do you hold me at knife point?"

The hand lifted. Blinking in the lamp light, Faren turned and took in his attacker. He gasped.

"Ceryni! What is the meaning of this?"

"You made Sonea and me a deal. You swore she wouldn't get caught. The way I see it, you failed bad. You owe us, and Sonea kindly agreed to let me call in the debt." - Cery felt bad for the lie, but figured that with her new magician friends, a favour with the thieves would be worthless, even harmful to her standing. - "I want your help. I will have your help, won't i?

"Well, Cery, Sonea was most unfortunate, but I can't just…"

"You can, will, and must. I'm not stupid. You think anyone's gonna want to deal with you after this? No. The best way to keep yourself in business is to deal with the best friend of the girl you betrayed."

Faren acknowledged Cery's point. "Well, ok. What do you want?"

"There are a few too many murderers in this city. I want help tracking down certain ones. I'll need watchers, tags, and I'll want a heavy to help me. Oh, and in case you get any funny ideas, I got friends in high places. My employer could take you down if anything …unlucky happened to me. So if I wake up with my throat slit, he won't be very happy. Agreed?"

"I…You haven't given me much choice, Ceryni. What will be my payment for these services?"

"Nothing. Except my continuing work, and a word in the right ear that you're not just a traitorous dung head."

With that, Cery backed away quickly, then turned and ran from the room. Faren sat down wearily. If he'd known how much trouble Sonea would cause, he'd never have taken her on.

The End

Slum vocabulary

Done: killed

Dung head: Fool

Heavy: Thug, suited to guard work

Knife: Assassin/ hired killer

Tag: A spy/ to spy

Watcher: Guard/ observer

*All names and events taken from the Black Magicians Trilogy. All credit to Trudi Canavan*