Текст книги "Cascet of Souls"

Автор книги: Lynn Flewelling

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“But I hear that you back privateer ships. That’s very useful. May I ask you something?”

“Of course, Highness. Anything.”

“We’re said to be distant kin. Why aren’t you at court?”

Grinning, Seregil flipped a bakshi stone in the air and caught it. “Because I’m not very respectable, Highness.”

“But you were at court for a time?”

“When I was very young.”

“I’ve heard that you were friends with Aunt Phoria and Uncle Korathan.”

“I was. I think I can say that I’m still on good terms with your uncle.”

“And Aunt Klia. That’s why I wondered-But you’ve already said. So why aren’t you on good terms with the queen?”

How to answer that? “Well, as I said, I’ve become a bit of a wastrel over the years.”

“You don’t seem like a wastrel at all. And Lord Alec certainly doesn’t,” she said, then blushed.

“I’m afraid I’m rather a bad influence on Alec. And I suspect your mother and aunts would agree.”

“That’s not what Aunt Klia says. She says the alliance with Aurenen would never have been struck if not for you. And that you and Lord Alec helped save her life when she was poisoned.”

“She honors us. We only helped.”

The princess surprised him with an unexpectedly shrewd look. “If she trusts you, then you both are worthy of trust. I won’t forget that when I’m queen.”

Reltheus wandered over just then, carrying a three-legged stool. “You two are looking very serious over a game,” he said, sitting down beside the table.

“Lord Seregil is teaching me strategy,” she told him. “But you were right about his luck.”

Reltheus chuckled. “Seregil, you better mind your manners or you’re likely to end up in the Tower again.”

“I’d forgotten that,” said the princess. “But Grandmother did let you out.”

“I’d rather not take my chances there again,” Seregil replied with a wink.

“I won’t send you there, at least not for beating me at the stones. Reltheus, will you give me a game so I can try out my new skills?”

Seregil rose and bowed. “May you have Illior’s luck, Highness.”

He was aware of jealous eyes on him as he searched out Alec, who was dozing under a birch tree. Seregil sat down with his back against the white trunk and settled himself as if for a nap, then kept watch under his eyelashes.

Presently Elani stood up from the bakshi table, laughing over something Reltheus had said, and joined her ladies to nap in the shade. Reltheus sat where he was, looking pensive, until Tolin and Stenmir joined him and the three strolled off into the forest.

Seregil waited until they were out of sight, then stood and stretched, and ambled off in the opposite direction. As soon as he was in the cover of the trees, however, he quickly skirted the clearing and soon caught sight of Reltheus’s red coat. The three nobles were standing on the path, heads together, deep in conversation. Seregil had worn his brown coat for just such a chance. Keeping low, he stole silently closer to a hiding spot behind a fallen tree.

“How could you be so careless?” Tolin hissed.

Reltheus gave him a dark look. “It was intercepted from the courier before it ever reached me. There was little I could do about that.”

“What are we going to do? Are you certain the duke has it?”

“Yes.” Reltheus started off along the path again, deeper into the woods, and Seregil followed, staying just close enough to hear what was said.

“We must get it back!” Tolin hissed. “It’s not just your head on the block if he goes to the prince with it. Have you told Kyrin?”

“Of course I have.”

“Any more word from the north, Reltheus?” asked Stenmir.

“No, and nothing at the Palace. I suspect if they’d been successful in killing her, we’d have heard about it by now.”

Killing her, Seregil thought, shocked at the words. There was only one “her” he could think of that they would be speaking of. If there had been an attempt, how could Thero not know?

They passed through a clearing, and Seregil lost the thread of the conversation as he had to skirt wide to avoid being seen. All he caught were bits and pieces of some argument between Reltheus and Tolin. Stenmir said little, listening more than he spoke. The men stopped again and Seregil heard Reltheus say something about “the cat.”

Seregil’s heart skipped a beat at that, doubting the conspirators would be discussing someone’s mouser. A stop in at the Stag and Otter might be in order when he got back to the city.

He shadowed them back to the others, but their conversation had turned to the war and Phoria.

“I would wish no harm on her, of course, but it might simplify things,” Tolin observed, and he seemed to be still speaking of the queen.

Simplify what for whom?Seregil wondered. The most obvious answer was that Phoria’s untimely demise would clear the way for Elani to take the throne, and assure Reltheus’s interests if the girl wed Danos. If that were the case, and he suspected it was, then Phoria’s life might be in as much jeopardy as Klia’s.

“Enough of that. We’re too close,” Reltheus warned. Then, raising his voice a little, “Tolin, do tell me about that new kestrel of yours. You must bring her to my next hunt.”

Seregil faded into the trees and hurried back to his place beside Alec before Reltheus and the others appeared on the far side of the clearing.

Alec cracked an eyelid as he sat down and murmured, “Find what you were looking for?”

“Mmm,” Seregil replied noncommittally as he signed yes. “Just needed to stretch my legs.”

When the heat of the day had passed, the courtiers roused themselves and there were games, more shooting, and wading at the shoreline to catch shrimps and collect periwinkles and black mussels.

Alec won a few shatta and purposely lost a few, too, to avoid bad feelings. There was no question that the more time either he or Seregil spent in Elani’s presence, the more they were regarded as interlopers of low degree.

As night fell, the servants built a bonfire on the beach and everyone gathered around to eat mussels boiled in wine and spices and sing under the stars. Seregil was loaned a harp again and sang a love ballad in his lilting tenor, then called on the company to join him in more love songs and warriors’ lays, finishing with a few ballads celebrating the queen’s battles.

At last they were rowed back to the ship and sailed home across the glittering harbor. At the quay Elani bid them good night and rode off with her court.

Collecting their horses from a public stable, Alec and Seregil started for home through the backstreets of the Lower City.

“You wouldn’t mind staying at the Stag tonight, would you?” Seregil murmured.

“No, why?”

Seregil’s grin flashed pale in the starlight. “Just a bit of business, if we’re lucky.”

As they turned into Cod Street, Alec noticed a young bawd sprawled awkwardly near the open doorway of a tavern. He first supposed she was either drunk or murdered, until he saw that her eyes were wide open and that she was still breathing. He reined in and dismounted.

“What are you doing?” Seregil asked impatiently.

“She’s alive.” He touched her brow with his palm. “Like that boy we found.”

Seregil joined him and pressed two fingers against the inside of her wrist. “Her pulse is strong.”

“You there! What are you up to?” a man demanded, and Alec turned to find a blue-coated sergeant of the City Watch regarding them with obvious suspicion.

“We just found her like this,” he explained.

“Oh, pardon me, my lords,” the man said, taking in their fine clothing. Then, looking down at the woman, he shook his head. “Sakor’s Flame, another one?”

“You’ve seen this before?” asked Seregil.

The man came a bit closer, but Alec could tell he was nervous. “Mostly back away from the merchants’ streets. It’s the sleeping death, all right.”

“The what?”

“Some new sickness here around the waterfront,” the bluecoat explained, taking a step back. “We’re seeing a lot of it, here in the dog days. A person will just be walking along, then all of a sudden they stagger and go down, then just lie there. After a while, they die. Leave her. The Scavengers will see to her.”

“But she’s not dead,” said Alec.

“The Scavengers are the only ones who’ll handle these poor beggars, except for the drysians. It’s spreading, you know, though folks aren’t talking about it, on account of what could happen.”

“Quarantine,” said Seregil.

“Yes, if there are enough cases reported that it’s deemed a contagion, the whole Lower City could be cut off. And you can bet the traders don’t want that. Not on account of a few whores and their brats falling sick. Things are bad enough already. Now you two move on, and see that you wash your hands. I’ve heard it said these sick ones are unclean.”

“If that’s the case, then shouldn’t there be a lot of dead Scavengers and drysians, too?” asked Seregil.

The sergeant snorted. “The Scavengers are bred to filth. Ain’t nothing that kills them but each other. And the drysians

have their Maker to protect ’em. Go on, now. You’d best be on your way, my lords.”

Seregil swung up into the saddle and gave Alec a surreptitious wink. “Clearly, there’s nothing we can do for her.”

They rode slowly around the block, giving the sergeant and his men time to move on, then circled back. Alec carried the woman and Seregil led the horses as they took her to the little Dalnan temple where they’d taken the boy. People they passed along the way shied away from them, and some made warding signs against ill luck and sickness.

They rang the bell and, after a time, a sleepy-looking young drysian looked out, then quickly opened the gate so they could bring the woman in.

“How many of these people have you seen?” Seregil asked the drysian when they were inside.

“A boy was brought in yesterday, but I’ve heard of more,” he replied. He took the woman in his arms and led them through the temple, with its stone hearth altar carved with sheaves and fruit, to an inner room beyond. A young boy with dark brown hair and eyes lay on a straw pallet, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

The acolyte spread a pallet for the young woman and covered her with a blanket.

“I’d like to speak with the priestess, Brother,” Alec told him.

“Of course, my lord.”

The man disappeared, and a moment later the priestess they’d spoken with before joined them.

“This one’s from one of the Hake Street houses,” she said as she bent over the stricken woman. “I’ve cured her of the usual things a few times. I suppose this is a kinder end for her than many she could have come to.”

“You’re probably right.” Alec reached into the purse at his belt and gave her two new-minted silver sesters.

The drysian took them with a weary sigh. “Maker’s Mercy on you, for your kindness and generosity.”

“How long has the boy been here?” asked Seregil.

“His mother brought him to me two days ago.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“Yes, he’s the candlewick maker’s son, Teus.”

“You handle these people without any fear, it seems. No gloves. No bird beak masks full of herbs.”

“It didn’t occur to me to do so, when the first one was brought to me,” she explained. “By the time others came, I was quite certain it was not a contagion spread by touch.”

“That’s not what the bluecoat we just met said,” Alec told her. “And some of the folk we met on the way treated us like we had plague.”

“I’m beginning to think it might be one,” she replied. “But you, young sir-you carried her with no thought of danger?”

“The same as you, Sister. We’ve encountered this before and I didn’t catch anything.”

She patted his arm. “You’ve good hearts, my lords, to stop for such a girl.”

“We’re all one under the Maker’s eye, Sister,” Alec replied.

“You’re a Dalnan?” she asked in surprise.

“Raised one.”

“Good! Not enough of us down here in the south. Those flame and moon worshipers could learn a thing or two from us. Maker’s Mercy, my lords.”

“And to you.”

They rode up through the deserted Harbor Way and through the Sea Market.

As they threaded their way through the poor neighborhood beyond, Alec turned sharply in his saddle, peering down a side street and reined his horse around.

“What is it?”

“I could swear I just saw Atre pass under a street lantern down there.”

Seregil shrugged. “His old Basket Street theater isn’t far from here.”

“What would he be doing back there?”

“Who knows? Come on.”

The Stag and Otter was shuttered for the night. They approached carefully, making sure not to be seen coming here in noble dress.

Entering the darkened kitchen, Seregil went to the broad

mantel over the hearth and took down the large painted pitcher that stood in the center of it. Inside were two folded parchment packets, both sealed with wax that bore no emblem.

Alec shook his head. “More work! Just what we need.”

Upstairs they lit a few lamps. Seregil sat down on the couch and told Alec all he’d heard on the island.

“You think they tried to assassinate Klia?” Alec exclaimed. “By the Light, Seregil, how could Korathan not know? The news should have been all over the city!”

“Not if he didn’t want it to be. As vicegerent, he has to keep the peace and he doesn’t need any fuel being heaped on the fire of unrest he’s already contending with. I just can’t imagine Thero not knowing. It will be interesting to see what he has to say about it. But now to these.”

Alec leaned over Seregil’s shoulder to read with him as he opened each letter.

“Another bauble delivery,” Seregil said as he read the first one. Tossing it aside, he opened the second and showed it to Alec. “Just as I thought.”

“Someone wants us to burgle Malthus’s house?”

“Yes, and look at this clever phrasing. For ‘any missives of interest to the queen.’ ”

“That must have been what you heard Reltheus and the others talking about.”

“I’d say so. Reltheus must have sent this before we sailed this morning. Does the handwriting look familiar to you?”

“No, but the sender might have had someone else write it for them.”

A great cloak of secrecy surrounded the workings of the Cat, requiring any message back and forth to pass through a number of trusted hands. Not only did this system protect the Cat from being unmasked, but it made their noble patrons feel safe dealing with them. Whatever they found would be passed to one of several people, who would pass it on to others, until it reached the agent of the person buying their services. Money changed hands in the same manner.

“It’s risky. If he caught us, knowing who we are?” Alec shook his head doubtfully.

“It’s riskier for Malthus if we don’t, though, Alec. If the Cat doesn’t take the job, whoever sent this will just employ a less sympathetic, and probably less discreet agent. And it’s hardly the first time we’ve burgled the house of someone we know. The Cat would be out of a job if we made such distinctions!”

“I suppose so.”

Seregil went to the desk, took out a piece of charcoal he kept for the purpose, and scrawled Yesin crooked letters across the missive. Resealing it with tallow from a cheap candle, he disappeared downstairs to return it to the pitcher for delivery. Ema’s husband was the first of many couriers, taking the Cat’s replies to a run-down tavern called the Black Feather, where Seregil, in disguise, of course, had an agreement of many years with the landlord.

And so it began.

CHAPTER 20. Reports

THEY found Thero in the Oreska garden the following morning, with a silver trowel in one hand and a flat gardener’s basket in the other. His hands were uncharacteristically dirty, as was the front of his long canvas apron, and his dark curls were sweat-plastered to his forehead. So far Lenthin was showing no sign of being cooler than the previous two months.

Thero’s basket was filled with roots of various shapes and sizes, elements for spell work. Such gathering had to be carefully done, often with the aid of spells, and could not be left to servants.

“When are you going to take on an apprentice for this sort of thing?” Seregil chided, dismounting to greet him.

“When and if I find the right child,” Thero replied.

“Then you’re looking, finally?” asked Alec.

Thero sighed. “We’ve only had six children presented here since Mourning Night, and none of them were suitable for me.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Nysander once told me, ‘You’ll know when you’re ready, and you’ll know them when you meet the right person.’ I understand now what he meant.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting lonely in your tower?” said Seregil.

Thero shrugged. “I suppose I am.”

They left their horses with a servant and walked with Thero into the shelter of a small cherry orchard. Delicate

pink and white petals drifted down to settle on their hair and shoulders as they sat on the soft grass under the trees.

“Any word from Klia?” Seregil asked quietly.

“She has Beka and Nyal spying for her, but so far they haven’t caught Danos sending any messages, or doing anything else suspicious.”

“Give her time. He’s sure to slip up sooner or later, unless he’s more of a nightrunner than I give him credit for.”

“He must have some skill, to go unnoticed for so long.”

“Apparently,” said Thero. “Now, I assume you’re here to report about your day out with the princess?”

Seregil grinned. “You heard about that?”

“You two are becoming the talk of the Noble Quarter. Especially you, Alec. I never expected you to be taken into the royal circle. No doubt it will prove useful. If nothing else, you can keep an eye on those around her. Anything new on Reltheus?”

Seregil related the conversation he’d overheard, including Stenmir’s potentially treasonous comment regarding the queen and what appeared to be talk of a failed assassination against Klia.

“That does sound serious,” Thero said when he was done, looking curiously unsurprised by the news.

“Did you know that someone tried to kill her?” asked Alec.

The wizard hesitated, then nodded. “Korathan doesn’t want word of it getting out.”

“But to us?”

“He and Klia both assume it was the work of the Plenimarans. I did, too, until this news.”

“Maybe it would be just as well that they keep thinking that for the moment,” said Seregil. “If Korathan arrests those we know of now, there could be others who escape. We don’t know the full extent of either cabal just yet. I assume that Klia is taking precautions against another attempt on her life?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Let us do our work.”

“What about this mysterious document that Reltheus and

the others were talking about? What could it be, and who has it?”

“That we should be able to answer soon,” Alec replied. “When we got to the Stag last night, there was a job waiting for us.”

“To find the letter, I presume? Where?”

“With Malthus, I’m afraid.”

“This grows more serious by the day. Alec, how close are you to Elani?”

“Close?” Alec shrugged. “She’s just friendly and likes to shoot with me. And gamble with Seregil.”

“All the same, you’re in a better position to look out for her.”

“Klia’s paved the way for us there,” Seregil told him. “Apparently she’d spoken well of us to her niece often enough to make an impression. And I wouldn’t discount Elani for her age. She strikes me as very astute.”

“Her father is said to have been a brilliant man, and a fine general. Apparently she takes after him. I’m glad to hear she can still enjoy herself, though. She’s very serious at court.”

“Being chosen the heir when she was half grown, rather than being born to it, would make me pretty serious, too,” said Alec.

Thero looked around, then lowered his voice. “If Phoria dies, do you think Elani can rule?”

Seregil shrugged. “In the field? Who can say? But she’s been trained by Phoria, and if the queen has confidence in her, then the girl must be made of strong stuff.”

“And there have been warrior queens her age before-Tamir the Great, and Gherilain herself,” Alec pointed out.

Thero nodded. “Well, use your connections. I must know if something is seriously afoot against any of the royals. Has Reltheus said anything more to you about Princess Klia?”

Seregil exchanged a knowing look with Alec. “He’s asked us about her several times, actually. Nothing very specific, really, just our impressions of her and how close friends with her we are.”

“I see. I suspect they’ve underlined your name on their list by now, even with this unexpected good luck at court.”

“I get more the impression that he’s sounding us out as possible allies, or at least trying to use us for information.”

“So you’re next move is to burgle Malthus, I suppose. And if you do find something treasonous?”

“It comes to you, of course. I just hope we don’t.”

As they were taking their leave, Alec paused at the door. “Thero, have you heard anything about a disease called the sleeping death?”

“No. What is it?”

“Some sort of sickness down in the port. People just fall down and lie there with their eyes open for days until they starve.”

“Doesn’t sound like any magic I know of. Some form of epilepsy, perhaps. I haven’t heard anything of it up here.”

“No one has, it seems,” Seregil told him. “It’s only affecting the poor in the Lower City.”

“Ah, that would explain it, then.”

“We heard a bluecoat talking quarantine,” Alec added.

“That would certainly get people’s attention. Has Valerius looked into it?”

“Not that I know of,” said Seregil. “It could be that the priests and healers down there are as worried about quarantine as anyone else.”

“With good reason. It could cripple the whole city.”

“And if it spread up here there could be a panic.”

“I should think this is a matter best left to the drysians,” Thero warned. “See that you two don’t catch it.”

Seregil raised an eyebrow. “Why, Thero, I’m touched by your concern.”

“I only meant it would be inconvenient to find replacements for you,” Thero replied, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes that hadn’t been there a few years earlier.

“By the way, when are you coming to the theater with us?” Seregil asked. It was becoming a bit of a game, trying to lure the wizard out to do something he clearly had no interest in doing. “We’ll stand you a good supper and the gambling houses afterward.”

Thero gave him a long-suffering look. “Don’t you have someone to burgle?”

“We’re dining with Kylith and her niece, Ysmay, at Wheel Street first, in celebration of my name day. At least join us for supper.”

When Thero hesitated, Alec wheedled, “Grilled eel and leeks, spiced bluefish in jelly, poached pears with rosemary syrup, cakes…”

“Your cook’s grilled eel? And her cakes?” Thero grinned. “For that, I’ll come.”

Kylith and Ysmay arrived first and coaxed Alec into a show of archery while they waited for Thero. The wizard soon followed, and they sat down in the cool garden to enjoy the fragrant repast. Seregil poured the wine freely but he and Alec took little themselves, needing their wits about them for the night’s real work.

Ysmay, a very pretty blond, flirted determinedly with Thero, but the wizard appeared oblivious while the others chatted about horses and hunting.

“Do wizards hunt?” Ysmay asked.

“Some do,” Thero replied, helping himself to more eel. “I did, growing up, with my father and brothers, but since putting on robes I really haven’t had the time or inclination.”

“He’d rather putter about in his tower,” Alec teased. “We go by and dust him once a week.”

“Well, I’m glad to have the chance to see you tonight,” Ysmay said warmly. “Tell me, why are wizards celibate?”

“Not all of us are,” Thero replied, keeping his attention on cutting up his eel. “Those who are think it increases their magic to withhold from spending energy on the pleasures of the flesh.”

“Nysander certainly didn’t agree with that,” Seregil said with a chuckle. “He was quiet about it, but he had quite a string of lovers.”

“I always wondered about him and Magyana,” said Kylith.

“Friends of the heart, but not the flesh,” Seregil explained. “But I think she was his true love.”

“You believe in true love!” Ysmay exclaimed, delighted, glancing Alec’s way.

Seregil pressed a hand to his heart and declaimed with

mock-solemnity, “Dear lady, it’s the only thing that makes life worth living!”

“Oh, you should be on the stage, my lord,” said Ysmay, flirting a bit with him now.

“He had his chance,” Kylith told her. “Atre offered him a place in his company.”

“I’d like to see that! You’re every bit as handsome as he is.”

Seregil inclined his head modestly. “You flatter me. I doubt most of the women of Rhiminee would agree with you.”

“Most, indeed!” Kylith noted with a slight frown. “Since you and I established him in style, he seems to be in a different bed every night. I’m rather piqued about that, and considering withdrawing my patronage. There are certainly enough others who’d put up with him.”

“You’d do that?” asked Alec.

“I most certainly will. I told him as much the other night, when he refused my invitation to dinner. Of course, he was very apologetic about it, but I heard the next day that he’d been with Duchess Arelia. To be honest, I’m growing a bit tired of him anyway. I think Master Raneus at the Tirari is a bit more convincing-onstage and off.”

Seregil doubted that, but Kylith had her pride and had wrongly assumed she was buying a young lover as well as a theater.

Talk had turned to recent plays at both theaters when Runcer came to the door. “Master Atre is in the salon, my lord. Shall I have him join you?”

Seregil looked to Kylith. “It’s up to you.”

“Oh, please, yes!” Ysmay pleaded.

Kylith sighed. “I have no objection.”

Seregil motioned to Runcer, who escorted the actor into the garden.

“My dear Lady Kylith!” Atre exclaimed, going to her at once to kiss her hand. “How lovely to find all three of my dear patrons here at once.”

Kylith regarded him coolly. “Still only three?”

“You wound me, lady!” Atre gave her an imploring look.

“Come sit by me, you rogue,” Seregil said, laughing. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Only a bit of mundane business, my lord. Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Then you must join us. There’s still plenty of food. You can help celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“His name day,” Alec told him.

“You honor me, my lords,” Atre replied, taking a seat with obvious pleasure. When Runcer had filled his cup, he lifted it to Seregil. “Long life and good fortune, my lord.”

After seeing Kylith and Ysmay into their carriage later that evening, Seregil turned to Atre with an expectant look.

“My news would be better delivered in private, my lords.”

“Ah, I see. Well, come to the library.” He led the way up and closed the door.

“Someone’s tongue has been wagging?” asked Alec.

“Indeed, my lord,” Atre replied, glancing around the well-appointed room with evident interest. “Tanni and I performed for a small party at Duke Laneus’s house a few days ago. The duke and his friends spoke very highly of Princess Klia. The first toast was to her, rather than the queen.”

“I see. What exactly was said?”

“Several people had letters from her and shared them. It was mostly salutations and details of battles.”

“Who was there?”

“The duke, Duke Malthus, Marquise Lalia, Duke Zymir, General Sarien, and Duchess Nerian.”

“Sarien? Are you certain?” asked Seregil, trying to mask his dismay. General Sarien was the protector general, in command of the City Regiment.

“Of course, my lord,” Atre replied. “A round fellow, and generous with his gifts.” He fingered an ornate silver ring on his right forefinger.

Seregil waved that aside impatiently; everybody in Rhiminee threw their jewels at the actor, it seemed. “Is that all?”

“There was some talk of Princess Klia taking the throne somehow.”

“And they said this in front of you?” asked Alec.

The actor grinned. “No, my lord. They thought I was in the

kitchen with Tanni, having supper. I stole back to the salon and listened by the door.”

Seregil raised an eyebrow. “How clever of you. Have you done that sort of thing before?”

Atre gave a modest shrug. “Now and then.”

“I assume there was also mention made of Lord Alec or myself?”

“You, Lord Seregil. Duke Malthus suggested speaking to you regarding whatever they’d been talking about before I came back, but the others…” He paused, and gave Seregil an apologetic smile. “Duke Laneus said you weren’t influential enough to be of any use, and the others agreed.”

Seregil chuckled at that. “Do you know what they were talking about?”

“Unfortunately not all of it, my lord. As I said, we were sent to the kitchen for a meal-” He made a sour face; clearly the memory of being treated like a common minstrel was distasteful. “But Duke Malthus seemed to be arguing with the others about something.”

“But you don’t know what, except that it might have involved Alec and myself?”

“No, I couldn’t hear what he said clearly.”

“Most interesting. Anything else?”

Atre seemed to hesitate for just an instant before he shook his head. “No, my lord.”

“Well, thank you, and well done.” Seregil reached for his purse without thinking.

“No, my lord. As I said before, you are generous enough with your gold.”

“Ah, that’s right. Now, do I have your word that what you’ve told me goes no farther?”

“I am as constant as the sun, my lords. You have no need for concern. The politics of Skala are no concern of mine.”

“A very wise attitude. Good night to you, Master Atre.”

For just an instant Seregil thought he saw a look of annoyance cross the actor’s face, but it was fleeting and he couldn’t be certain before Atre pressed a hand to his heart and bowed and took his leave.

“Atre definitely has a bit of nightrunner in him,” Alec noted.

“I thought he might. What do you make of what he said?”

“I’d say with all you heard yesterday and now this, the two cabals may be at war. I’ve been thinking, though. General Sarien wasn’t on that list I found.”

Seregil considered that. “He may be a recent addition to the group. Or Kyrin didn’t know about him. By the Light, Alec, if Laneus has the protector general in his pocket, that shifts everything. If Sarien could get the City Regiment to follow him, they could hold all of Rhiminee hostage.”

“Maybe the Cat should pay him a visit. Where does he live?”

“Unfortunately, he’s quartered in the Palace itself and even I’m not about to try to burgle him there. We’ll start with Malthus tonight, and see what comes of that.”

Atre smiled to himself as he rode home, pleased that he’d kept the best of the gossip to himself; perhaps he’d have a bit of fun among the nobles, after all.