The Rogue

EPILOGUE

A noise down the passage alerted Cery before he saw the light. Relieved, he stood up and waited for Anyi to reach him. As she neared him he saw her smile and he sighed with relief.

It was good to see her so happy. Good that she had a friend. Being cooped up in the hideout did not suit her, and no matter how many practice sessions he and Gol put her through they wouldn’t be able to curb her restless nature.

The only real danger in these visits to Lilia is the stability of the passages under the Guild. No Thief has dared to occupy them. The Slig, the slum children who had built themselves homes in parts of the Thieves’ Road, were said to instinctively know and avoid unstable areas. Anyi had taken Lilia down into the tunnels and they’d both started to make repairs. He hoped they knew what they were doing.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Anyi said, and not for the first time.

Cery shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“I was gone for hours.”

He looked at Gol. “We kept ourselves occupied.”

She sighed and walked past him. “Where to now?”

“Home,” he said.

As they travelled, slipping out of the Thieves’ Road as soon as they reached a safe place, he thought about Sonea’s message. He couldn’t blame her for seizing the opportunity to meet Lorkin. He’d have done the same thing.

But he didn’t trust Kallen in the same way he trusted her. Not just because I don’t know him like I know Sonea, or that he’s not from the lower end of Imardin society, and not even because of Kallen’s liking for roet. The man is too … He searched for a word, and eventually settled on “rigid”. Cery didn’t doubt the man’s promise to never give up in his search for Skellin, but it came first from a dedication to law and what was right, rather than a desire to protect others. He doubted that Kallen would ever bend the law or his idea of rightness, and that could lead to people getting hurt. The people most likely to be hurt are Anyi, Gol and I.

At last they reached the entrance to the hideout. It had been cold outside, and the chill clung to them. They were all keen to get inside and warm up, but forced themselves to go through all the precautions, and their numb fingers to work all the safeguards. Once inside, Anyi set about starting a fire while Gol checked for indications that the escape routes had been compromised.

Cery sat down. A bottle of wine and three glasses had been set on the table. He sighed. Right now all he wanted was a warmed glass of bol.

“Is there something to celebrate?” he asked, looking at Anyi and Gol.

They turned to regard him, their expressions puzzled.

Cery gestured to the bottle. “Your idea?”

The pair shook their heads.

He turned to stare at the bottle. His heart lurched. A rushing sound filled his ears. A tag hung from a loop of string about the bottle’s neck. On it were scrawled three words. He looked closer.

For your daughter.

He staggered to his feet.

“Out,” he gasped. “Someone’s been here. We have to get out.”