"The High Lord has been invited to dinner at the palace this evening, my Lady. Would you prefer I bring dinner to your room, or set up the dining room for you?"
Sonea looked up in surprise from the book she was reading, trying not to look too relieved at Takan's question. She had spent the day worriedly going over how she could slip away to meet Cery after dinner. Every excuse she had tried to think of had begun to sound flimsy, and the nerves of keeping a secret meeting from Akkarin had meant she had barely been able to enjoy her Freeday.
"A tray in my room would be great, thank you, Takan," Sonea said, smiling. Takan nodded and bowed, shutting the door of her bedroom behind him. Well, that's convenient, she thought. She still wasn't quite sure how Cery would show up, now that she lived in the High Lord's residence.
There hadn't been much need to risk meeting in the Guild grounds, now that she was free to go into the city to visit her family. Usually, Cery had just appeared, with Gol not far behind, whenever she visited Donia in the bolhouse. Once, he'd surprised her on the way to Jonna's, rounding a corner with a mischevious smile and a basket of fresh produce, walking her to her aunt's before disappearing into an entrance to the Thieves' Road.
Whatever couldn't wait until next Freeday, when he knows I'll be visiting for Ranel's birthday, must be urgent, Sonea thought. She couldn't help feeling a bit anxious – it was like Cery to prefer delivering bad news in person, while no news usually meant good news.
Sonea was jerked out of her thoughts when Takan softly rapped on the door and walked through with a tray of piping hot stew, pickles, warm bread and a glass of wine. She tucked in as she continued to read. It was Akkarin's handwritten copy of the diary of a Sachakan nobleman, who Sonea had recently learned were called Achatis. Akkarin had given her the original as well, but his clear and elegant handwriting was far more legible than the Achanti's overly decorative pen, so Sonea was only occasionally checking the original.
Eve of Harvest Festival; Arvice.
One of the door slaves missing. I've sent some men after her, but I doubt they'll catch her. She must be halfway to the mountains by now. The Traitors are getting bolder – I never thought one would dare infiltrate my household. It's imperative that this is kept quiet, otherwise the King may have doubts about allowing me into court. But how could I have known, or prevented this? Nilara thinks I should dismiss all of our female slaves, just to be sure, but that is completely impractical…
Sonea finished the last of her stew and floated the tray over to the low sitting room table to have more desk space. The Traitors. She had now seen mention of this in several entries of this Achati's diary. She wondered who they were, and whether they still existed in Sachaka. Maybe it was another word for the Ichani, the rogues who were now sending spies to test Akkarin and the Guild? It was likely that a society that had outcasts may also refer to these people as traitors…
A strange birdcall interrupted Sonea's speculations. It was annoyingly persistent, and it sounded like it was very close to her window. Then she relaxed and smiled.
She floated the empty food tray outside of her bedroom, hoping Takan would just assume she had retired early. Then she put a lock on the door and a sound shield around the room before walking up to her window and sliding it open. She squinted down at the dark bushes not too far below, and caught a glint of a boot in the moonlight. Cery tentatively poked his head out from beneath the foliage and made hand gestures to indicate, Stand back. Coming up.
Sonea took two steps away from the window, and not a moment to soon. Two hooks with rubber tips flew up and latched to the edge of her window frame silently. Sturdy, expensive black ropes were attached to them. Around ten seconds later, the top of Cery's brown hair appeared, and his hands let go of the metal clasps he had used to grip and haul himself up the ropes, so that he could grip the windowsill. He silently swung his legs up and through the window, landing with agile, muffled steps onto Sonea's carpeted floor. He grinned and pocketed the two hooks, rolling up the ropes with practiced hands.
"Still got it, I see," Sonea smiled. "Though we used to do that without any fancy contraptions like these."
Cery shrugged. "You know me, I like keeping up with the latest inventions." He swiftly took in the surroundings. To anyone else it may have looked like he was appraising the furnishings, but Sonea knew he was quickly calculating exits and hiding spots. "I was expecting fancier for the High Lord's novice," he winked.
Sonea tried not to read anything into the wink – he cannot possibly know anything of the High Lord and I – and sat down on one of the two armchairs in her bedroom's sitting area. "Not my cup of raka, as you know. I may know magic now, but I haven't suddenly developed a taste for gold leaf and velvet drapes," she teased. However, she couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt. Whether or not dwells still saw her as one of their own was a touchy subject.
Cery sat down opposite her and raised his hands as if in surrender. "I'd expect no less," he grinned again. "But are you doing alright? No more trouble from that Regin since you showed him what's what, I hope?"
"Trust me, Cery, Regin couldn't be further from my mind right now," Sonea grimaced.
Cery's grin faded. "I know you now have all these special privileges as the High Lord's novice – doing magic outside the Guild and all that, like an actual magician – but it looks like it gets lonely around here. You know you always have friends in Northside, right? Even if those spoiled Lords and Ladies of the Houses still refuse to get to know you."
Sonea reached over and gave Cery's hand a squeeze. "I know. Thanks, Cery." She sat back and looked at her childhood friend. His calveskin boots looked new, and a slick looking dagger glinted at his waist under his coat. "Good to see you doing well, though," she said, raising an eyebrow at the expensive garb. "New clients?"
Cery's eyes came to rest on the incal on Sonea's sleeve. "You could say that," he said, a small smile playing about his lips.
Sonea's eyes narrowed. She knew that don't-ask-when-you-may-not-like-the-answer smile, but didn't probe. There was a more pressing question to hand. "So, what is it that couldn't wait until next Freeday?"
Cery looked uncomfortable. "I need an excuse to visit an old friend?"
Sonea raised an eyebrow. "Of course not, but as your old friend, I know you. Seriously, Cery, what's going on?"
Cery sat back and measured his words. "I've made a new… friend. A foreigner. Knows a lot more than I do about the murders in the city."
"Oh?" Sonea replied, trying to keep her face blank. He knows about the Sachakan spies, then? But of course. All the Thieves are probably just as anxious as the rest of us to see these murders come to an end, Sonea thought. She narrowed her eyes are her friend. The question is, how much does Cery know?
"She believes that… these murders have something to do with the High Lord. Not that he is the murderer," Cery added quickly, "but that he may be the one these people are hunting." Cery spread out his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. "I don't know what kind of rub he got into to have these men on his tail. Or where my friend is getting her information. But a few big names among the Thieves are beginning to come to the same conclusion."
Sonea's thoughts were racing. Memories of being betrayed by Faren flashed through her mind. "And… are they planning to act on their suspicions?"
Cery shrugged. "Not much they can do even if they wanted to, if that really is the case. He's the High Lord. Not going to be falling for some Thief's trap, even if there is one ambitious enough to try and see if he could hand him over."
Sonea looked at his face carefully. "And what do you think?
"That they'd be stupid to think these murderers will disappear, even if they do in the High Lord – if that's even what they're here for. Which I don't think they are," Cery's matter-of-fact tone didn't quite hide the worry in his brown eyes. "But then again there're a fair number of people wanting favour from the Thieves that are stupid enough to try."
"I don't think Ak- the High Lord is in any danger from them. It's these murderers that the Thieves, and everyone, should be worried about," Sonea said.
"And we are," Cery replied.
Sonea frowned, needing a moment to think. She was confident a couple of thugs looking to trap Akkarin for a pay-out would never manage it. What's more worrying is just how little the dwells know about the extent of the danger. Kyralia hasn't been invaded since the Sachakan War. But how can I warn them that these murderers are spies, without revealing almost everything Akkarin has told me in confidence?
She was only sure of one thing. She needed to convince Akkarin that taking her power wasn't enough – he must let her come with him in future confrontations with these spies. He may be confident that his contacts in the city are to be trusted, but I know more than he does about how quickly allegiances can change in the underworld. And that some Thieves now think that he is the real target, Sonea thought. Akkarin could be in danger of being double-crossed. And that could be fatal.
"I can't say more, but there are those of us who are… doing our part to rid the city of this threat. Those of us who believe the High Lord is an ally," Cery continued pointedly. "I know you have every reason not to like him. I never understood why he suddenly took you away from Rothen like that. Seemed heartless. But I wouldn't let that make you think he has any hand in these murders, if I were you."
"I don't," Sonea replied plainly.
They looked at each other for a moment, an undercurrent of unspoken questions running between them.
"And what part can I play in this?" Sonea asked when the silence stretched on.
Cery stood up and gave Sonea a crooked smile. "I didn't come to ask anything of you in this, Sonea. You're much more valuable to all us dwells here in the Guild, learning to be a Healer who can help her people, than running around the city chasing murderers." Cery put on his gloves, getting ready to leave.
His turned around towards the window, then paused and looked back at Sonea. His smile faded. "But you live with him. Spend time with him every day. He has no reason to listen to me, but maybe he listens to you. I dunno – you're his novice after all, right? Maybe you could find a way to let your guardian know that things are… a bit more complicated in the underworld now. That he should watch his back in more ways than one, next time he is in the city," Cery said carefully, like he was taking care not to make any outright claims.
"When did you start being so concerned with the wellbeing of a magician?" Sonea asked, reaching for a teasing tone to try and lighten the weight that had settled inside her chest.
Cery looked at her directly. "Since I realised the dwells have a bigger enemy out there than the Houses or the Guild."
Sonea's face sobered. "Yes, they do," she replied, equally cryptically.
They looked at each other with fond sadness for a moment. Sonea felt that there were more secrets between them now than there ever had been before.
I wish we could sit down for hours of talk over a mug of bol like we used to, Cery, she thought. There is so much to tell you. But Sonea was also reluctant to reveal anything without speaking to Akkarin first. And there was a darker thought in her mind that kept cropping up no matter how much she tried to squash it: that if the worst happened, and the Ichani decided to invade, what chance would any non-magicians like Cery have in the midst of a magical conflict?
Instead of sharing any of this, Sonea forced a small smile and stood up, walking Cery back to her window. They shared a quick hug and Cery began setting up his hooks and ropes for his descent.
"Take care," she said as he swung his legs over the windowsill.
Cery grinned, dropping down until only his head was visible. "I always do."