“And you expect me to tell you?”
The warrior’s shoulders rose. “Well, if you don’t, I’ll be forced to speculate, won’t I? I’m sure my friends will be happy to help me guess your reasons.” He put a finger to his lips. “Hmm, obviously you don’t wish it to be known why you are here. Is there a scandal you are hiding? Are you involved in something so embarrassing that you must dress like a beggar to avoid discovery? Ah!” Fergun’s eyes widened. “Are you visiting the brothels?”
Dannyl looked over Fergun’s shoulder. As he had expected, the guide had disappeared.
“Oh, was he the one then?” Fergun asked, glancing behind. “A bit rough looking. Not that I have any idea what your specific tastes are.”
Anger rushed over Dannyl like icy water. It had been years since Fergun had confronted him like this, but the hatred the jibe provoked was as strong as it had ever been. “Get out of my way, Fergun.”
Fergun’s eyes flashed with pleasure. “Oh, no,” he said, his voice no longer mocking. “Not until you tell me what you’re up to.”
It would not be hard to knock Fergun off his feet, Dannyl mused.
Dannyl controlled his anger with an effort. “Fergun, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut or out of the gutter if you wanted to—and everybody knows it. Nobody will believe a word you say. Now get out of my way before I’m forced to report you.”
The Warrior’s eyes became steely. “I’m sure the Higher Magicians will be more interested in your actions. From what I remember, there’s a rather strict law concerning magicians and where they must wear robes. Do they know you’re breaking it?”
Dannyl smiled. “It’s not entirely unknown.”
A flicker of doubt broke Fergun’s gaze. “They’re letting you?”
“They—or I should say he—instructed me to,” Dannyl replied. He let his gaze become distant, then shook his head. “I’ve never been able to tell if he’s watching or not. He’ll need to know about this. I will have to tell him when I get back.”
Fergun’s face had turned a shade whiter. “No need! I will talk to him myself.” He stepped aside. “Go. Finish your work.” Taking another step back, he turned and hurried away.
Smiling, Dannyl watched the Warrior disappear into the thickening snow. He doubted that Fergun would speak a word to the High Lord.
His satisfaction died as he found himself alone in an empty street. He searched the shadows where the guide had disappeared. Fergun would have to show up when the Thieves had finally agreed to a meeting. Sighing, Dannyl started back along the street toward the North Road and the Guild.
Hurried footsteps crunched the fresh snow behind him. He glanced back and blinked in surprise as he saw the guide approaching. Stopping, he let the man catch up.
“Hai! What was that about?” the man asked.
“One of our searchers got a little over-curious.” He smiled. “I guess you’d call him a nosy tag.”
The man grinned, revealing stained teeth. “I get you.” He gave a little shrug, then a tilt of his head to indicate that Dannyl should follow. Checking to make sure Fergun hadn’t hung about to watch, Dannyl started through the falling snow again.
“ ‘Gradually increase the amount of power until the heat melts the glass,’ ” Serin read.
“But that’s nothing like how it works!” Sonea exclaimed. She rose and paced the room. “It’s more like a... a water skin with a tiny hole in it. If you squeeze the bag, the water squirts out, but you can’t aim it, or make it—”
She stopped as a knock sounded on the door. Serin rose and checked the spy hole before opening the door.
“Sonea,” Faren said, waving the scribe out of the room. “I have some visitors for you.”
He stepped inside, grinning. Behind him was a stocky man with sleepy eyes and a short woman with a heavy scarf draped over her head.
“Ranel!” Sonea cried. “Jonna!” She dashed around the table and hugged her aunt.
“Sonea.” Jonna gave a little gasp. “We were so worried about you.” Holding Sonea at arm’s length, she nodded approvingly. “You look well enough.”
To Sonea’s amusement, Jonna narrowed her eyes at Faren. The Thief leaned against the back wall, smiling. Sonea moved to Ranel and hugged him.
He gave her a searching look. “Harrin told us you’ve been doing magic.”
Sonea grimaced. “That’s right.”
“And the magicians are looking for you.”
“Yes. Faren’s hiding me from them.”
“For what price? Your magic?”
Sonea nodded. “That’s right. Not that it’s doing him much good at the moment. I’m not very good at it.”
Jonna snorted softly. “You can’t be that bad at it, or he wouldn’t be hiding you.” She looked around the room and nodded. “Not as bad as I thought.” Moving to a chair, she sat down, pulled off her scarf and exhaled a long breath.
Sonea dropped to her haunches beside the chair. “I heard you were starting a new trade.”
Her aunt frowned. “New trade?”
“Making cousins for me, I think.”
Her aunt’s frown softened and she patted her belly. “Ah, so the news reached you. Yes, there’ll be another member in our little family next summer.” Jonna looked up at Ranel, who smiled broadly.
Looking at them, Sonea felt a surge of affection and longing. A familiar sensation slipped through her mind, and she drew in a sharp breath. Rising, she cast about, but saw nothing out of place.
“What?” Faren asked.
“I did something.” She flushed as she realized that her aunt and uncle were staring at her. “Well, it felt like I did.”
The Thief looked around the room, then shrugged. “Perhaps you moved a bit of dirt behind the walls.”
Jonna looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I used magic,” Sonea explained. “I didn’t intend to. It happens sometimes.”
“And you don’t know what you did?” Jonna’s hand tightened on her belly.
“No.” Sonea swallowed and looked away. The alarm in her aunt’s gaze saddened her, but she understood why Jonna feared. The thought that she might accidentally harm ...
No, she thought. Don’t think about it. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Faren, I think you should take them away. Just in case.”
He nodded. Jonna rose, her face lined with anxiety. She turned to Sonea and opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head and held out her arms. Sonea gave her aunt a tight hug before drawing away.
“I’ll see you again,” she told them. “When all this has sorted itself out.”
Ranel nodded. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” she promised.
Faren ushered the couple out of the room. Turning away, Sonea listened to their footsteps ascending the stairs. An unfamiliar patch of color on the floor caught her attention. Her aunt’s scarf.
Picking it up, she hurried to the door and up the stairs. As she climbed, she saw that her aunt and uncle were standing with Faren in Serin’s kitchen, staring at something in the room. Reaching them, she saw what had captured their attention.
The floor had once been covered by large stone slabs. Now it was a jagged jumble of stone and dirt. A heavy wooden table had dominated the room, but all that remained was twisted, splintered wood.
Sonea felt her mouth go dry, then her mind shifted again and the table suddenly burst into flame. Faren turned to her and seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before speaking.
“As I said,” he said. “She’s probably just going through a difficult phase. Sonea, go back downstairs and pack your bag. I’ll take your visitors home and get someone to put out the fire. Everything will be fine.”
Nodding, Sonea handed her aunt the scarf and fled back down the stairs to the basement.
14
An Unwilling Ally