Free The Rogue by Trudi Canavan Page A

“Such is the life of a researcher. A big discovery one moment, long gaps between. I wish you more success soon.”
    “Thank you,” Dannyl replied. “You expressed an interest in filling gaps in your own records last time we met,” he added. “My offer to assist still stands.”
    The Master of War’s face brightened. “I will be sure to take it up.” His gaze flickered past Dannyl’s shoulder. “Ah. More of those delicious rassook legs. This time I’m determined to get more than one before they all go. I like this Kyralian food.” He grinned and hurried away.
    Hearing a chuckle beside him, Dannyl turned to look at Achati. The man smiled.
    “You did well there,” he murmured. “It could be that, now that you’re no longer the newest thing to examine, the best way to gain what you need is to trade for it.”
    Dannyl nodded and felt his heart lighten a little.
    “Though I doubt Kirota can do much for you in return,” Achati warned in a low voice. “Still … consider it an investment.”
    As the small flare of hope faded, Dannyl suppressed a sigh. He saw Tayend watching him from the other side of the room, a thoughtful look on his former lover’s face, and suddenly all Dannyl wanted to do was leave the party.
    But he had no choice but to stay, so he stiffened his back and followed Achati to the next group of Sachakans.
    Lorkin had been expecting luxury and expensive decoration. He had expected the Traitor equivalent of servants hovering about, ready to do their monarch’s bidding, and guards at every door.
    But the rooms of the Traitor queen were not much larger or finer than those of the women he had visited while assisting Speaker Kalia in her visits to the sick or pregnant. The only obvious guard was a single magician sitting in the corridor outside, near the door. Maybe the young woman who had answered his knock on the door was a magician, too, though she seemed too young for the role of royal protector. She had greeted him with a cheerful, welcoming smile, introduced herself as Pelaya, then ushered him inside.
    Now he stood within a circle of plain wooden chairs. An old woman was standing before one of them as if she had just stood up. She was not dressed in finery, but then she hadn’t been the day of Tyvara’s trial either. If he hadn’t recognised her face, he might have mistaken her for another visitor waiting for the queen.
    But her bright eyes were sharp and her stare very direct, and there was something about her composure and focus that spoke of confidence and command. He put a hand to his chest and waited for a response, as he’d been instructed to do when he had first entered the presence of the queen.
    She waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t bother with formality in my own home, Lord Lorkin. I am too old and tired for it. Please sit down.” She reached backwards and, with obvious difficulty, began to lower herself onto a chair. He automatically took a step forward to help her, then stopped, not sure if touching her would be inappropriate.
    “Wait for me, Zarala,” Pelaya said, her voice gently scolding, as she hurried forward to assist the old queen.
    “I’m fine,” Zarala replied. “Just slow.”
    Once she was settled, the queen indicated the chair next to hers. Lorkin sat down. The young woman disappeared into another room. The queen regarded him thoughtfully.
    “How are you finding living in Sanctuary?”
    “It is a wonderful place, your majesty,” he began. “I—”
    “No formality,” the queen interrupted, waving a finger at him. “Call me Zarala.”
    He nodded. “Zarala. It is a beautiful name.”
    She grinned. “I like flattery. It will gain you nothing, though. I am too old for that sort of thing to influence me. Not that you should stop, if you happen to enjoy it.”
    “I do,” Lorkin replied. “And should you happen to enjoy it, you are welcome to send some my way, too,” he added quickly.
    To his relief, she laughed. “Go on. Tell me how you are