He looked at Savara.
“Knowing black magic might prevent me from returning permanently,” he told her. “I may only ever be able to visit. I’m willing to take that risk, if you assure me that there will always be a home for me in Sanctuary.”
She met his eyes levelly, then looked at Halana. The other woman nodded. Savara turned back and smiled. “So long as you never break our laws, you will be welcome to live among us.”
“Thank you.”
“And now,” she said, standing up and gesturing to Halana. “Now it is time we completed your education.” She patted him on the shoulder as she passed. “No doubt you’re more worried about the higher magic. Don’t worry. It’s the easy part.”
Halana rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. “Don’t pay any attention to her,” she said. “She’s right that higher magic is easy to learn but stone-making really isn’t that difficult, if you have patience, diligence and focus.”
Lorkin glanced back at Savara to see the woman shake her head in disagreement before she closed the door. “And if you don’t?” he asked, turning back to Halana.
The woman shrugged. “That depends on the stone you’re raising. If it’s meant to produce heat and you lose concentration … can those Healing powers of yours treat burns?”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
She smiled. “Well, then. With an advantage like that, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
It hadn’t surprised Sonea to find that Cery wasn’t waiting under the sweet shop, and that instead there was a message instructing them how to find him. She, Dorrien and Nikea had disguised themselves as a couple and their daughter looking to expand their trade in gathering and preparing rag for paper production. The message led them to a bolhouse, through a small night market and a bathhouse, before they found themselves climbing out of a basement to find that Cery had taken over a neat and surprisingly well-decorated home for the night.
Where the occupants were, Sonea was reluctant to ask. Signs of them were everywhere, from the toys visible through the open door of a bedroom, to the food half eaten at the table. They found Cery in a darkened room, sitting by a window. Gol had met them in the basement, and warned them not to create any lights.
“The meeting is supposed to take place in that room over there, on the second floor,” Cery told them, pointing out of the window.
Looking across, Sonea saw the lamp-lit guest room of a house across an alleyway. The alley was so narrow she could have stepped into the other room in a few strides, if there hadn’t been two walls between them.
They discussed how to approach the other building, and cut off the obvious escape routes. Cery hadn’t be able to get anyone close enough to check for hidden escape routes without them risking being seen. The house they were in got them as close as he dared. It was up to the magicians to find their way over to the room opposite, once the meeting began.
Sonea thrashed out a plan with Dorrien and Nikea, but they hadn’t a chance to put it in action. The room opposite remained empty.
The night passed slowly, and at every hour Cery grew increasingly withdrawn. He spoke less and less, and eventually they all remained silent, not wanting to voice their fears. Shoulders drooped and faces sank in disappointment as it became clear there would be no meeting, and no capture of Skellin or anyone else. When the walls outside the window began to lighten, Nikea finally broke the silence.
“What do you think? Should we conclude that the meeting was called off?”
All exchanged glances except Cery, who was staring at nothing.
“We’ll wait for news,” Sonea told him.
“If Anyi managed to slip away, or send a message through someone, where would they go?” Dorrien asked Cery.
Cery’s frown deepened. “She wouldn’t come here, or send a message here, in case it drew attention to us.” He rose, a movement that seemed abrupt after hours of stillness and silence. “Follow me.”
They obeyed, returning to the basement and retracing their steps to the bathhouse. There, the middle-aged woman who ran the house approached Cery nervously and handed him a slip of paper.
“I’m sorry. It came a few hours ago,” she said. “I didn’t know what to do with it. You never said I might get messages, or where to send them.”
“I never expected you to have to,” he said. “But thank you for keeping it safe.”
She looked relieved and made a quick retreat from the room. Cery read the note and sighed with relief.
“She’s alive and safe,” he told them. “But they’ve discovered that she was a spy.” He shook his head. “I wish I’d been able to arrange writing lessons for her.” He held out the slip of paper, with two scrawls on it. “We worked out a code, but it doesn’t give much detail.”
“You’ll be able to meet with her and find out what happened?” Dorrien asked.
Cery nodded. “How soon will depend on how much her employer and the Thief that controls him know about her, and if they are hunting for her.” His expression became grim again. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.”
Sonea put a hand over his. “I hope she’s all right. And pass on our thanks to her.”
He managed a wan smile. “All this, and we didn’t catch Skellin.”
“Well, let’s hear what she says before we call it a complete failure. Maybe she’s picked up some information we can still use.”
He nodded. “Then I had better get you back to the Guild with your own identities still concealed.” He beckoned. “Come on. I’ve made some arrangements.”
CHAPTER 21
LIES, HIDDEN TRUTHS AND DELUSIONS
After a nervous night waiting silently in the attic of the house they’d broken into, when the occupants – a family with noisy young children – had returned, followed by a day of restless sleep in a tiny room below a bolhouse, Lilia was beginning to wonder if her life was going to permanently switch to a nocturnal routine.
If it was, then she hoped that she would adjust to it quickly. Though Anyi had assured her that she knew the bolhouse owner, and was confident enough to fall asleep straightaway on one of the narrow beds, Lilia woke at every noise. And sleeping under a bolhouse meant there were a lot of noises to wake her. She must have grown used to it, because Anyi eventually had to prod her into waking up.
“Time to get up,” Anyi said. “I’ve got some clothes for you, then we’ll be having dinner with the woman that runs this place.”
Lilia sat up, yawned, then picked up the topmost piece of clothing in the pile at the foot of the bed. A heavy tunic top. She frowned. It was clean, but threadbare at the elbows.
“Your clothes are too good,” Anyi told her. “People will spot that you’re out of place as soon as they see you. If you want to stay hidden until we find your friend, you’re going to have to dress like you belong here.”
Lilia nodded. “If Black Magician Sonea can do it, so can I.”
Anyi chuckled. “I’ll slip out while you get changed.”
The old clothes smelled of wood smoke and soap. Though they were of coarser fabric than the clothes Lilia had been given to wear at the Lookout, something about them brought a feeling of comfortable familiarity.
They remind me of my life before I became a novice. They are like the clothes the servants wore who did the rougher, dirtier duties.
Once she was done, she moved to the door and opened it a crack. Anyi was waiting outside, and beckoned as she saw Lilia.