“I thought you’d like it.” He stretched and leaned back in the chair. “I’ve also got news for you. Your aunt and uncle are expecting a child.”
Sonea stared at him. “They are?”
“You’ll have a little cousin soon,” he told her. Taking another sip, he gave her a speculative look. “Cery told me that your mother died when you were a child, and your father left Kyralia soon after.” He paused. “Did either of your parents show signs of having magic in their blood?”
She shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
He pursed his lips. “I had Cery ask your aunt. She says she has never seen any magical talent in either your parents or grandparents.”
“Does it matter?”
“Magicians like to trace their bloodlines,” he told her. “My mother had magic in hers. I know because her brother—my uncle—is a magician, and my grandfather’s brother is, too—if he is still alive.”
“You have magicians in your family?”
“Yes, though I’ve never met either of them, and probably never will.”
“But...” Sonea shook her head. “How can that be?”
“My mother was the daughter of a wealthy Lonmar merchant,” he replied. “My father was a Kyralian sailor, working for a ship captain who regularly transported wares for my mother’s father.”
“How did they meet?”
“By chance first, then in secret. The Lonmar, as you know, keep their women from sight. They don’t test them for magic, as the only place they can learn to use it is the Guild, and the Lonmar believe it is unseemly for women to be far from home—or even speak to men other than those in their family.” Faren paused to take another mouthful of wine. Sonea watched expectantly as he swallowed. He smiled briefly.
“When her father discovered that my mother had been seeing a sailor, she was punished,” he continued. “They whipped her and then imprisoned her in one of their towers. My father left his ship and stayed in Lonmar, seeking a way to free her. He did not have to wait long, for when her family discovered she was with child, they cast her out in disgrace.”
“Cast her out? Surely they would just find a home for the child?”
“No.” Faren’s expression darkened. “They considered her spoiled, and a disgrace to her family. Their traditions required her to be marked so that other men would know her crime, then she was sold in a slave market. She had two long scars on each cheek, and one down the center of her forehead.”
“That’s awful,” Sonea exclaimed.
Faren shrugged. “Yes, to us it seems awful. The Lonmar, however, believe they are the most civilized of the world’s peoples.” He took another sip of wine. “My father bought her and passage for both of them back to Imardin. Their troubles did not end there. He had caused the ship captain to lose an important customer, as my mother’s family would not trade through him anymore. And no other ship owner would hire my father, so my parents grew poorer. They built a house in the slums and my father took a job in a gorin slaughterhouse. I was born soon after.”
He drained his mug. Looking at her, he smiled. “See? Even a lowly thief can have magic in his blood.”
“A lowly thief?” Sonea snorted.
She had never seen Faren so talkative. What else might he tell her? Pouring more wine, she gestured impatiently. “So, how did a slaughterman’s son become a leader of the Thieves?”
Faren lifted the mug to his lips. “My father died in the battles after the first Purge. To have enough money to feed us, my mother became a dancer in a whorehouse.” He grimaced. “Life was hard. One of her customers was an influential man among the Thieves. He liked me, and took me in as his son. When he retired, I replaced him, then worked my way up from there.”
Sonea pursed her lips. “So anyone can become a Thief? You just have to make friends with the right person.”
“It takes more than just being good company.” He smiled. “Do you have plans for your friend then?”
She frowned in mock puzzlement. “Friend? No, I was thinking of myself.”
He threw back his head and laughed, then raised his mug to her.
“Here’s to Sonea—a woman of small ambitions. First magician, then Thief.”
They drained their mugs together, then Faren looked down at the table. Reaching out, he turned the book around to face him.
“Is this making any more sense yet?”
She sighed. “Even Serin can’t work out some of it. It’s written for someone who knows more than I do. I need a book for a beginner.” She looked up at Faren. “Cery had any luck?”
He shook his head. “It might have been better if you’d kept practicing. It would have kept the Guild busy. In the last week, they’ve checked every pawn shop inside and outside of the walls. If there were any books on magic in the city, they aren’t there anymore.”
Sonea sighed and pressed her hands to her temples. “What are they doing now?”
“They’re still snooping around the slums,” he told her. “Waiting for you to use your magic.”
Sonea thought of her aunt and uncle, and the child they were expecting. Until the magicians stopped searching, she would not be able to see them. How she longed to talk to them. She looked down at the book and felt a surge of frustration and anger. “Don’t they ever give up?”
She jumped as a loud bang echoed through the room, followed by a light patter of something scattering over the floor. Looking down, Sonea saw fragments of a white ceramic vase.
“Now Sonea,” Faren said, shaking his finger at her. “I don’t think this is a nice way to repay Serin for—” He stopped abruptly, then slapped his forehead and groaned. “They’ll know you’re in the city.” He swore, then frowned at her disapprovingly. “There’s more than one reason why I told you to avoid using magic while you’re here, Sonea.”
Sonea flushed. “I’m sorry Faren, but I didn’t mean it.” She reached down and picked up one of the fragments. “First I can’t make it happen when I want to, and now it happens when I’m not even thinking about it.”
Faren’s expression softened. “Well, if you can’t help it, you can’t help it.” He waved a hand, stiffened and turned to stare at her.
“What?” she asked.
He swallowed and looked away. “Nothing. Just ... a thought. The magicians won’t have been close enough to us to work out your location, though they’ll probably be all over the North Quarter tomorrow. I don’t think I need to move you yet—just try not to use your magic again.”
Sonea nodded. “I’ll try.”
“Larkin the merchant?”
Dannyl turned to see a bolhouse worker standing beside him. He nodded. The man jerked his head to indicate that Dannyl should follow him.
For a moment, Dannyl stared at the man, unable to believe that he was finally getting somewhere, then hastily rose from the stool. Following the man through the crowd, he considered the contents of his letter to Gorin. What had made the Thief agree to see him this time?
Snow was falling outside. The guide hunched his shoulders and drew his coat tighter, then started down the street at a rapid pace. As they reached the entrance of a nearby alley, a cloaked figure stepped out in front of Dannyl, blocking his path.
“Lord Dannyl. What a surprise! Or should I say, what a disguise?”
Fergun was smiling broadly. Dannyl stared at the magician, his disbelief rapidly turning to annoyance. Remembering other times, many years before, when he had been pursued and taunted by a younger Fergun, an uneasiness began to nag at him—then he became annoyed with himself. Straightening his shoulders, he drew a little petty satisfaction out of being a head taller than the other magician.
“What do you want, Fergun?”
Fergun’s fine brows rose. “To know why you’re wandering about the slums in such a state, Lord Dannyl.”