"Canavan, Trudi (Black Magician 03)-The High Lord v1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Canavan Trudi)

Cery signed the letter with a flourish, then regarded his work with satisfaction. His writing was neat and elegant. The paper was quality, and the ink dark and black. Despite the slang terms throughoutЧhe had requested that Serin teach him to read and write, not make him sound like a member of one of the HousesЧand the fact that it was a request for the execution of a man who had cheated him and fled to the Southside, it was a fine, well-written letter.
He smiled as he remembered asking Faren, the Thief who had hidden Sonea from the Guild, if he could "borrow" Faren's scribe for a while. From Faren's mixed expression of reluctance and gratitude, Cery knew that the Thief would have refused if he hadn't desperately needed the boost to his position that the arrangement would bring.
Faren's hold on his status as Thief had been precarious for the first year after he had turned Sonea over to the Guild. A Thief's ability to do business relied on a network of people willing to work for him. While some worked for money, most preferred to "help out" and be paid back in kind later. Favors were the second currency of the underworld.
Faren had used a lot of the favors owed to him while keeping Sonea out of the Guild's hands, but that should not have held him back for long. People knew he had made a deal with Sonea to hide her from the Guild in exchange for her using her magic for himЧa deal he had broken. The other Thieves, worried by the Guild's warnings that her powers would grow dangerous if she wasn't trained to control them,
had "asked" him to turn her in. While he could hardly have refused the request of the other underworld leaders, a deal had been broken. Thieves needed people to believe they had at least some integrity, or only the desperate or the foolish would do business with them. Only the fact that Sonea had never used magic in any useful way, failing to uphold her side of the deal, had saved Faren from complete ruin.
Serin had remained loyal, however. He had given Cery little information about Faren's affairs during the reading and writing lessonsЧnothing Cery didn't already know, anyway. Cery had learned fast, though he attributed that partly to having watched some of Sonea's lessons with the scribe.
And by showing that heЧSonea's friendЧwas willing to deal with FarenЧSonea's "betrayer"ЧCery had assured people that the Thief was still trustworthy.
Taking a slim tube of dried reed out of his desk drawer, Cery rolled the letter and slipped it inside. He stoppered the tube and sealed it with wax. Picking up a yerimЧa slim metal tool with a needle-like pointЧhe scratched a name on the side.
Putting the tube aside, Cery balanced the yerim in his hand, then, with a flick of his wrist, threw it across the room. It landed point first in the wooden panelling of the opposite wall. He gave a small sigh of satisfaction. He'd had his own yerim made to be well balanced for throwing. Looking down at the three remaining in the drawer, he reached out to take another, then stopped at a knock on the door.
Rising, Cery crossed the room to retrieve the yerim from the panelling before returning to his desk.
"Come in," he called.
The door opened and Gol stepped inside. The man's expression was respectful. Cery looked closer. In Gol's eyes was a hint of... expectation, perhaps?
"A woman to see you, Ceryni."
Cery smiled at Gol's use of his full name. This was an unusual woman, if Gol's manner was any indication. What would she be: spirited, beautiful, or important?
"Name?"
"Savara."
No one Cery knew of, unless the name was false. It was not a typical Kyralian name, however. It sounded more like a Lonmar name.
"Occupation?"
"She wouldn't say."
Then perhaps her name is Savara, Cery mused. If she had lied about her name, why not make up an occupation as well?
"Why's she come?"
"Says she can help you with a problem, but wouldn't say what the problem was."
Cery was thoughtful. So she thinks I have a problem. Interesting.
"Show her in, then."
Gol nodded, then backed out of the room. Cery closed his desk drawer, then leaned back in his chair to wait. After a few minutes, the door opened again.
He and the newcomer regarded each other in surprise.
She had the strangest face he had ever seen. A broad forehead and high cheekbones angled down to a fine chin. Thick, black hair hung heavy and straight past her shoulders, but her most startling feature was her eyes. They were large and tilted upward at the outer corners, and the same light gold-brown as her skin. Strange, exotic eyes . . . and they were examining him with barely concealed amusement.
He was used to this reaction. Most customers hesitated when they first saw him, as they noted his stature, and his name, which was also the name of a little rodent common in the slums. Then they reminded themselves of his position and the likely consequences if they laughed out loud.
"Ceryni," the woman said. "You are Ceryni?" Her voice was rich and deep, and she had spoken with an accent he could not place. Definitely not Lonmar.
"Yes. And you're Savara." He did not phrase it as a question. If she had lied about her name, he doubted she would offer the real one now just because he asked for it.
"I am."
She took a step closer to the desk, her eyes shifting away to note features of the room, then back to him again.
"You say I've a problem you can fix," he prompted.
A hint of a smile crossed her face and he caught his breath. If she fully smiled, she may just turn out to be astonishingly beautiful. No doubt this was the cause of Gol's suppressed excitement.
"I do." She frowned. "You do." Her gaze slipped from his, moved over him as if considering something, then snapped back. "The other Thieves say you are the one hunting the murderers."
Murderers? Cery narrowed his eyes. So she knows there is more than one.
"How d'you plan to help me?"
She smiled and Cery's suspicion was confirmedЧshe was astonishingly beautiful. He hadn't anticipated the challenge and confidence that came with it, however. This one knew how to use her looks to get her way.
"I can help you find and kill them."
Cery's heart began to race. If she knew who these murderers were, and believed she could kill them . ..
"And how're you going to do that?" he asked.
The smile vanished. She took another step closer. "Find or kill?"
"Both."
"I will say nothing of my methods of killing today. As for finding them," a crease appeared between her brows, "that will be harder, but easier for me than for you. I have ways of recognizing them."
"So do I," Cery pointed out. "Why's your way better?"
She smiled again. "I know more about them. For now, I will tell you that the next one entered the city today. He will probably take a day or two to gather the courage, and then you'll hear of his first kill."
He considered her reply carefully. If she didn't know anything, why offer this proof? Unless she planned to manufacture "proof by murdering someone herself. He looked at her closely and his heart went cold as he belatedly recognized the broad facial features and that particular shade of gold-brown skin. How had he not seen it earlier? But he had never seen a Sachakan woman before ...

He had no doubt now that she was dangerous. Whether she was dangerous to him, or to the murderers from her homeland, remained to be seen. The more he could get her to reveal of herself, the better.
"So you have watchers in your homeland," he prompted, "who tell you when a killer has entered Kyralia?"