Текст книги "Cascet of Souls"

Автор книги: Lynn Flewelling

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

CHAPTER 15. Rubbing Shoulders with Royalty

ALEC was sitting on the kitchen floor, playing with Marag, when Seregil came in with a letter.

“Aren’t we the popular fellows!” he said with a grin, passing the letter to Alec. “A royal page just delivered this. That’s Elani’s personal seal, by the way.”

It was written on expensive parchment, and had an impressive seal dangling from it on a ribbon, showing the image of a coursing hound running under Illior’s thin crescent moon, surmounted with Sakor’s stylized flame. It was an invitation written in a looping girlish script, inviting them to shoot with her early the following morning. Seregil studied it, committing it to memory.

“Apparently your little show of possession didn’t put her off the notion,” Alec noted.

“She seems a levelheaded girl. Maybe she takes after her aunt Klia.”

Alec was sweating in his light coat before they’d crossed the Harvest Market, though it wasn’t due to the weather. The air was blessedly cool at this hour, and the lowering clouds held the promise of a summer shower. He pulled nervously at the quiver strap across his chest. The shatta clicked and rattled together against his left hip in time to Windrunner’s pace.

Riding beside him on Cynril, Seregil glanced over at him and shook his head. “Stop looking like you’ve been sent to the Red Tower!”

“I hope I don’t land myself there before this is over,” Alec muttered.

“Just remember your manners, and keep up that country charm. She already likes you.”

At the appointed hour they showed the invitation at the gates of the royal park and rode into the grounds surrounding the forbidding Palace. The Palace was built against the side of the inner curtain wall, like a barnacle on a rock. It was a dour-looking fortress, built by Tamir the Great to withstand sieges, and had no hint of the Oreska House’s airy grace, though they were built at the same time. Buttressed by the western curtain wall that surrounded the city, its square towers overlooked the city and the harbor below. There were barracks on the extensive grounds, but gardens, as well, that softened the ugliness a little. Having come here in less-than-pleasant circumstances before, Alec shivered a little as he rode through the ornate iron gates.

The royal lists were located in the south garden; archery was a favorite pastime of the nobility, as well as a martial skill. Courtiers of both sexes had already gathered with the princess, including Princess Aralain. A few of the women and girls were dressed in men’s clothing, the princess herself in something like a military uniform, with her fair hair in a braid over one shoulder, and a fine bow and quiver over the other.

The vicegerent, Prince Korathan, was there, as well, dressed for shooting rather than court, together with Alaya, Duke Reltheus, Count Selin, and a host of other retainers and friends, including Tolin and Stenmir, whom Alec had seen at Kyrin’s house the night he first burgled it.

Korathan stood talking to the princess as they approached. The prince was a tall, fair man, and Phoria’s twin, with the same pale eyes and hair now streaked with grey, as was his short-cropped beard. He had a somewhat warmer manner, however, and doubly so, it seemed, around his niece. He was another of Seregil’s former lovers, too, if very briefly and a long time ago. Alec tried not to think about that.

Elani caught sight of them and waved. Alec waved back,

then yanked his hand down and glanced nervously at Seregil. “Should I have done that?”

“She’s smiling, tali. Remember, just be yourself and respectful. That’s why we’re here, after all.”

Alec looked to Korathan for a read of the weather and found the man also smiling and at ease.

Once in the royal presence, Seregil and Alec bowed deeply. “We are most honored by your invitation, Highness,” Seregil said, speaking for both of them.

“Thank you for coming,” she replied, and he noticed her gaze straying again to Alec.

“Alec, perhaps Her Highness would like to see the Radly.”

“Oh, of course.” Alec unshouldered his black bow and held it out to her with both hands. There were a few titters among the courtiers at his slight awkwardness, but Seregil didn’t mind; it only bolstered the country-bred reputation that they’d so carefully cultivated.

Elani ran her hands over the smooth black yew limbs and the ivory plate, admiring the etched maker’s mark. “And you say it comes apart?”

Alec took it back, unstrung it, and twisted the handgrip, unlocking the steel ferrule and pulling the two limbs apart. He showed her how they fit back together, then took it apart again for her to try. She assembled it and set one end against her foot to restring it with practiced ease. Raising it in her left hand, she drew the string to her ear, then slowly eased it back. “The mechanism doesn’t weaken it?”

“No, Highness.”

Seregil exchanged a slight smile with the prince as Alec and Elani stood there, talking bows and shooting for some time, as if the rest of them weren’t there. Elani and Alec might be worlds apart in rank, but they spoke the same language, and with the same enthusiasm. In his element, Alec was almost as at ease as if he were talking with Beka or Micum.

“Perhaps we should get to it?” Korathan suggested at last. In truth, the others were getting a little restless, no doubt less than pleased to see a newcomer of low rank getting so much

attention from the princess at their expense. Seregil had spent enough time at court to know that the closer you got to the throne, the closer to the surface jealousy ran.

Anxious to see the Radly in action, Elani took Alec as her partner, and Seregil found himself paired with the prince.

“Well, well. I’ve gotten the lesser part of this bargain,” Korathan remarked as he stepped up to the line at their target. “Unless you’ve improved since I last saw you shoot.”

“ Improvedis such a relative term. But you still probably wouldn’t want to depend on me for your supper.”

Korathan just chuckled.

Alec’s efforts with him had not been completely in vain; Seregil didn’t come close to besting Korathan, but he did manage to reliably strike the target.

It felt at once strange and familiar, this. It had been years since he and Korathan had met as anything other than prince and lord, but for this brief time the barriers were lowered at least a little and Seregil got a glimpse of the man he’d liked and bedded when they were both so young. Years past the pain, the memory made him smile.

“Are you going to shoot or stand there woolgathering?” Korathan asked, sounding more amused than impatient. A voice from the past. Maybe he was remembering, too.

“I must ask a favor of you,” Princess Elani said to Alec as they took their places in the list, softly enough so that the crowd of courtiers watching couldn’t hear.

“I’m yours to command, Highness,” Alec replied, surprised.

The girl smiled and shook her head. “People have a habit of letting me win because of who I am. I don’t appreciate that. Rumor has it that you are an exceptional archer. I’d prefer to see your best.”

Alec relaxed a little; in fact, Seregil had warned him to not make too much of a show of himself. He did insist, however, on giving her the advantage of shooting second. Placing his toe to the line, he adjusted his leather tab and nocked a red-fletched arrow to his string, bow arm still relaxed and hanging down. Then he fixed his eye on the distant bull’s-eye,

raised and pulled the bow in one smooth motion, and let fly. The shaft struck dead center. He sent a second one after it and it struck so close on the left that it shaved a bit of fletching off the first. The third embedded itself just to the right of the first one. The feat was greeted with uneasy silence among the courtiers until Elani began to clap. As the others joined in, she raised an eyebrow at him. “You certainly took me at my word, my lord.”

He bowed, at a loss for words and hoping he hadn’t put his foot in it right off the mark. He was glad he hadn’t gotten carried away and split one of the arrows, which he could very well have done on such a calm day.

A page cleared Alec’s arrows from the target and Elani took her place at the line. To Alec’s considerable relief, she let fly three of her black-and-white-fletched shafts in quick succession and landed them in a grouping just as tight as his own.

“Well shot!” Alec cried, as the courtiers applauded. As soon as the words left his lips he wondered again if he’d overstepped.

Yet Elani looked pleased. “Thank you, my lord. Shall we have another go?”

They shot several more times, with Elani proving herself Alec’s equal each time.

“May I try the Radly?” She could have commanded him, but instead asked with the respect one archer accorded another. You didn’t ask such a thing lightly.

“Of course, Highness.” Alec traded with her, and held hers carefully as she sent half a dozen arrows unerringly into the target, making a star design.

When she was done she ran a hand over it again. “It’s a thing of beauty, Lord Alec. You must tell me where I can get one like it.”

“Please, accept this one, Highness,” he said, though the words came with a twinge; this would be the second one, another gift from Seregil, that he’d lost.

But she shook her head and handed it back. “No, it would be as wrong to part you from it as to take one of your hands.”

“Then at least accept these, Highness.” He untied half a

dozen of the best shatta dangling from his quiver and presented them to her, a collection of carved gold, silver, ivory, two jades, and a carnelian. “They’re from Aurenen, and they’re called shatta, which means ‘prize.’ Archers win them from one another in matches like this.”

Elani held them up, admiring them. “Yes, I know. Aunt Klia has some, from her time in that land. I gathered from how many you have that you must be very good. Thank you for these. Perhaps I’ll start the custom here.” She turned to her uncle in the next list over. “How are you and Lord Seregil faring, Uncle?”

Korathan gave Seregil a wry grin. “If we’re going to start that custom today, my dear, then Lord Seregil owes me a good many more shatta than that.”

They sat in the shade of a large grape arbor after that and drank chilled wine, then it was clear that Alec and Seregil were expected to take their leave. Alec left with a parting promise to send directions to Radly’s shop in Wolde and set off for the stables.

Reltheus excused himself and accompanied them.

“You’ve certainly made a favorable impression on the princess,” he said as they walked along. “Especially you, young Alec. You should be careful, or you’ll make your lover here jealous.”

“He has no reason to be,” Alec replied, coloring a little.

Reltheus chuckled at that. “Many young men would be pleased with such a conquest.”

“I’d hardly say he conquered me,” Seregil said with a smile.

Reltheus blinked, then got the joke. “I’ve heard you called the most amusing man in Rhiminee, Seregil. Since I’ve gotten to know you, I think I may just agree. Will you dine with me tonight, gentlemen?”

“Why, we’d be delighted!”

“I’ll send a carriage for you. I don’t suppose you could bring that actor fellow along?”

“I believe he’s onstage tonight, unfortunately,” said Alec.

“Let’s go and see him, then! My wife has been badgering me to take her. We can dine afterward.”

Bidding the duke farewell at the stable gate, they got their horses from the liveried stable boy and set off for home.

“Well, how did I do?” asked Alec.

“Very well, tali. But you noticed we weren’t invited inside with the others? Korathan whispered a little warning to me while you and the princess were shooting.”

“Really? What did he say?”

“Just that while Elani has taken a liking to you, Phoria will most likely put a stop to it when she comes home. We’re not the sort of company she’ll want her future queen to keep. Then again, maybe Elani will have some say in the matter. We’ll just have to wait and see. Enjoy it while it lasts!”

“Are you certain you’re all right with this?” asked Seregil as they waited for Reltheus’s coach to arrive that evening.

“Stop asking!” Alec muttered, less than happy with the night’s plan.

The duke and his wife soon arrived, and they set out for Gannet Lane.

Reltheus introduced Palmani, who was out of birthing confinement. She was very young and quite pretty. Alec felt bad for her, knowing what her husband got up to on his nights out. She was also a little shy, but Seregil soon had her laughing and talking about her baby son.

There was a large crowd gathered in front of the theater, and the playbills hung on each side of the doors promised a comedy tonight called The Wife’s Revenge. It seemed appropriate, although Alec was fairly certain from the way Palmani fawned on her husband that she knew nothing of his philandering ways.

A few people muttered as Seregil led his guests to the head of the line, but the man taking the money knew them and bowed deeply as he ushered them in.

“This is quite wonderful!” Palmani exclaimed, looking around excitedly as they settled in the finely appointed patrons’ box. “I’ve been asking my husband for weeks to bring me.”

Reltheus raised her hand to his lips. “And here we are, my love, courtesy of my good friends.”

“He speaks of you so often,” she told Alec.

Young Van soon appeared with chilled wine and a plate of sweets. “Compliments of the house, my lords,” the boy said with a deep bow.

“Thank you, Van,” said Seregil. “Tell me, do you know if Atre is free after the show tonight? We’re dining with the duke and his lady and they would very much like to meet him.”

“I’m sure he is, my lord!”

The play was, as always, excellent, with Atre playing the cuckolding husband and Merina the triumphant wife. Brader played the husband’s roistering companion with more humor than Alec had thought the man capable of.

It ended with the unfortunate husband locked in a cupboard with a malodorous servant, played by Teibo, and a flatulent hound. The crowd loved it and threw all manner of favors onto the stage when the cast came out to take their bows.

“Oh, they were wonderful!” Palmani exclaimed, wiping away tears of laughter. “I do look forward to meeting this handsome actor of yours.”

The footlights were extinguished and the crowd milled out, talking and laughing, while Seregil and the others waited in the box. Atre soon joined them, dressed in an elaborately embroidered blue coat and silk breeches.

“Your Graces.” Color flashed from the jewels of his earring and the numerous rings he wore as he bowed. These were almost always different, and Seregil very much suspected that he wore whatever jewels his host or hostess for the evening had given him, to please them and curry favor. The one constant, Seregil noted, was the amethyst ring Atre wore on the little finger of his right hand; the one Elani had given him. That had been quite a coup, and it seemed Atre was happy to remind people of it.

“What an honor to offer my humble services!” Atre was saying, not sounding particularly humble.

“You can thank your patrons, Master Atre,” Palmani said, offering her hand for him to kiss.

“They are unfailingly generous, Your Grace.”

* * *

There was little overt sign of the war deprivations in the Noble Quarter, or at least not in Reltheus’s huge Silvermoon Street villa, where a sumptuous feast awaited them. They ate in the elaborate garden, enjoying the cool night breeze as they dined on courses of venison and hare from the duke’s hunting estate, and jellied eel and lobsters from the bay. Seafood was still plentiful in Rhiminee, since it didn’t travel well. The bread, it was true, was made from coarser flour than one might expect, and there were candied fruits rather than tarts for dessert, but no one commented on such lacks.

Atre was in his element, and amused the whole table with stories of his travels and experiences with curious characters. Seregil joined in, and soon they were vying to see who could tell the most outrageous story.

The wine flowed freely, and Alec drank cup after cup. By the time they got to the dessert course, he was drunker than Seregil had seen him since last Mourning Night, laughing loudly at everything and swaying in his chair. Seregil shot him increasingly annoyed looks through the meal, trying to catch his eye, and by the end of the meal he was pretending embarrassment and poorly concealed his anger at his young lover.

“Your Grace, I really must apologize,” he said to Palmani, reaching out to steady Alec in his chair.

“Ah, temperance comes with age,” Reltheus said with a laugh.

“You serve the mos’ essecellent wine, my dear Reltheus!” Alec slurred, holding out his cup again.

Seregil snatched it away and put it out of reach. “I’m sorry to end the evening on such a note, but I fear I should take him home before he can’t walk at all.”

“I most certainly canwalk!” Alec exclaimed indignantly. To prove it, he stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. He wavered a moment, then collapsed in a drunken faint.

Seregil quickly righted the chair, apologizing profusely as he and the actor tried to get Alec onto his feet. “Alec, you fool! Of all the boorish-”

“Oh, the poor thing!” Palmani cried. “He’s going to be very sorry in the morning.”

“Perhaps sooner. Really, I fear for the state of your carriage.”

“A wise concern,” said Reltheus. “Please, stay the night.”

Seregil sighed. “We’ve abused your hospitality enough already.”

“Nonsense!” said Palmani. She summoned a servant. “Have one of the bedrooms made up for them at once. And send some men to carry Lord Alec upstairs.”

“You’re far too kind,” said Seregil.

“He’s not our first guest to enjoy our wine too much, Lord Seregil. It’s no trouble at all.”

“Perhaps I should go,” said Atre, watching it all with counterfeit concern.

“Oh, do stay a little longer!” Palmani pleaded. “This will only take a few minutes.”

“Want to stay ’n’ watch Atre,” Alec mumbled, leaning unsteadily on Seregil.

“Some other time,” Seregil told him none too gently.

They were given a room overlooking the garden, and Palmani accompanied them upstairs. As Seregil followed the servants carrying Alec, he tried to take stock of the other rooms along the corridor, but most of the doors were closed.

Their bedchamber was large, with tall fretted summer doors that let onto a balcony beyond. The furnishings were richly carved, and the walls were decorated with murals of fantastical undersea scenes.

The servants placed Alec on the bed and pulled off his boots.

“If I might trouble you for one last thing, dear Duchess,” Seregil said. “I think a bucket may soon be in order.”

“I’ll have one sent up at once, and water.” She looked down at Alec, who was snoring softly. “I fear you’re in for a restless night. I can have one of the servants tend to him, if you’d like a room of your own.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We’ve been through this before.”

“Good night, then. I’ll have breakfast sent up in the morning.”

“I think bread and tea will suffice.”

When she was gone, Seregil sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Alec’s flushed cheek. “Tali?”

Alec moaned and looked up at him. Though not quite as drunk as he’d pretended, he was still glassy-eyed. “Did it work?” he mumbled.

“Perfectly.”

Alec gazed blearily around. “Is that octopus on the wall really moving?”

“No,” Seregil chuckled.

“The bed is moving!”

“No, it’s not, love.”

Two maidservants hurried in with the bucket, water, and several small flannels. Seregil folded one into a band, soaked it in water, and laid it across Alec’s forehead. “Does that help?”

“No,” Alec gasped, looking pale. “Bucket!”

Seregil supported him over the side of the bed as Alec brought up both wine and dinner. When he was finished, Seregil set the bucket outside, undressed Alec, and settled him more comfortably in bed with a fresh cloth on his brow.

“Better now?”

“A little,” Alec said, eyes fluttering shut. “You damn well better find something!”

Leaving Alec to sleep, Seregil paced the long balcony, peering in through the windows of the other rooms. There was enough moonlight for him to see inside; all bedchambers, one of which was the nursery, where a wet nurse was watching over two of the duke’s younger children, and the new baby. The one next to it appeared to belong to the duchess.

He went inside again and waited until the house was quiet, then slipped out into the corridor to begin his search.

The rooms at the front of the house proved to be more bedchambers and a day room. Taking out the tool roll he’d hidden under his shirt, he searched that room but found nothing of interest except the duchess’s correspondence box. He

looked through it quickly and found nothing of note. Whatever Reltheus was up to, it was doubtful his young wife knew anything of it.

As he stepped out into the corridor, a brawny servant with a lantern appeared at the head of the stairway just a few yards away.

“Who’s that there!” the man demanded, coming closer and raising his lantern. “Oh, it’s you, my lord! Whatever are you doing out here in the dark?”

“I was looking for the garderobe, actually,” Seregil replied, feigning chagrin. “I didn’t want to disturb anyone with a light.”

“No chance of that, my lord. You’d be lucky not to break your neck. But you know, there’s chamber pots under all the beds.”

“I can’t abide the things! Surely there is a proper toilet here?”

“Oh, yes, downstairs. Here, I’ll take you to it.”

There was no choice but to follow him down, but as luck would have it, they passed the open door of what looked like a study overlooking the garden.

The toilet was a rank little closet in a far corner of the house. Garderobes were common in Rhiminee, just a shaft down to the sewers below, with a seat on top. With the watchman waiting outside to light him back to his room, Seregil made use of it and allowed himself to be led back to his room.

“Thank you,” Seregil said, giving the man a silver half sester.

“Much obliged, my lord.”

Alec was fast asleep and not so pale. Seregil washed his hands at the basin and went back to the door. There was no sign of the watchman. In no mood for any more surprises, he felt his way to the staircase and made his way back down to the study. If the watchman found him again, he’d just say he was indisposed.

The room was lost in shadow, but Seregil could make out the furnishings in the faint light from the window. A search of the desk produced only a few letters from the son detailing

life in the Horse Guard and Klia’s actions. From the tone, it seemed he admired his commanding officer. In the one locked drawer-and if you wanted to catch a thief’s attention, one locked drawer was the way to do it-he found an ornate dagger and a leather portfolio containing a report on him and Alec.

It was written on decent parchment in a rather clumsy hand. It gave in brief detail the tale of how he and Alec had come to be in Rhiminee-the public version, anyway-and a few pertinent details about whom they knew, including Klia, Kylith, Thero, Malthus, most of the names Alec had found on the list in Kyrin’s cupboard, and Duke Laneus. That last was odd, since he’d only met the man once, at the Golden Crane. But that helped him gauge when this report had been written. The main body of the several close-written pages, however, was devoted to their relationship with Klia. Once again, it only contained public knowledge, and nothing about them saving her life that night at Kassarie’s keep, but there was mention of how Seregil had discovered what had poisoned her in Aurenen, and his role in the truce negotiations. This spy had either been there, or talked to someone who had.

He replaced the report and locked the drawer, then turned his attention to the floor under the desk. As expected, he found a small trapdoor, just like the one Alec had found at the duke’s summer villa. There was another of Elani’s letters, copied out in the same male hand and dated only two days earlier, in which the girl spoke of Duke Reltheus in friendly terms and mentioned receiving a letter from Danos.

Seregil shook his head as he replaced it. It seemed Reltheus was taking an unreasonable amount of risk just to see if the girl was interested in his son. Or perhaps he was afraid she had other admirers. Then again, having a direct channel to the correspondence of a future queen might be valuable in itself, if Reltheus was taking the long view.

Next, he saw with a start, was a note from Malthus to Duke Laneus, dated nearly a month ago and written from his summer villa. Or rather, a copy; he knew Malthus’s handwriting as well as his own, and this was someone else’s.

Which tended to rule out a forgery. He doubted very much that Reltheus would be so clumsy.

Korathan insists that all is going well at the front, despite the casualties, it read. However, he keeps the queen’s dispatches under lock and key, impossible to see. I fear that even if victory comes, it will come too late for the people, especially since the last raising of the war tax. Rhiminee is becoming a tinderbox.

Seregil committed the short message to memory, then examined the remaining documents, which proved to be the most interesting of all. There were three dirty, ragged scraps of parchment with lettering on them that to an untrained eye would appear to be mere gibberish. Seregil, however, recognized the writing at once as some sort of cipher. The messages were too long and complex to chance copying all of them, and it would be a bit too obvious to steal them, especially since the night watchman had caught him wandering the corridors. Laying the three of them out side by side on the floor in front of him, he studied them in the glow of the lightstone, trying one system after another to get them to make sense. It took only a few minutes to recognize it as nothing more than an offset code. With his host’s pen and ink, he copied the shortest, then interpreted the other two and wrote them down. He frowned down at the revealed messages, then tucked them inside his shirt and hurried back up to his room.

Alec was fast asleep on his side, snoring softly the way he did when he’d had too much to drink. Rather than chance disturbing him, Seregil settled in an armchair and took out the copies he’d made, puzzling over them for some time.

Alec woke the next morning with a throbbing head and queasy stomach, but managed a humble apology to their hosts. He suffered their well-meant reassurances and managed not to throw up in the carriage on the way home.

“Next time, youget drunk!” he groaned as the carriage jounced over a rough patch of paving. “You never feel this ill afterward.”

“I’m sorry, tali, but your sacrifice was not in vain,” Seregil said. “I found a report on us, and these.” He showed Alec the letters he’d copied. “Thero will certainly want to see these.”

Alec cradled his head in his hands. “Then you can damn well go on your own!”