Текст книги "Cascet of Souls"

Автор книги: Lynn Flewelling

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

As for his patrons, would they never part with so much as an earring?

Perhaps Duke Reltheus or Kyrin would be more generous. Kyrin, he decided; he already had a ring from Reltheus, from the night he’d dined at the duke’s house when Alec had disgraced himself with drink.

Perhaps he’d even inveigle one or both of them as new patrons. From Kylith’s reception tonight, it was clear he was going to need one.

CHAPTER 21. How to Burgle a Friend

IT was a simple matter to break into Malthus’s fine house in Rowan Street that night. Ironically, it was less than five minutes’ walk from Reltheus’s house. Seregil went inside alone, over Alec’s objections, claiming that it would be easier to explain one of them being there, rather than both, should he get caught, and that he knew the layout of the house. All the same, Alec insisted on coming as far as the garden wall and keeping watch while Seregil climbed over and into the shadows beyond.

It was a sticky night, and the black silk across the lower part of Seregil’s face was uncomfortably hot and moist before he got halfway through the extensive garden. Elegant as this house was, it was sadly lacking in balconies, so Seregil was forced to find another way upstairs, where Malthus’s library lay. The man didn’t have a study, but carried out his business from a desk there. Seregil hoped that’s where he kept anything sensitive. As conniving as the Rhiminee upper classes tended to be, they were woefully predictable to anyone who had a wide experience of them.

The narrow window of the garderobe chamber granted cramped entrance for a snake-hipped nightrunner with the wit to jigger the catch on the interior leaded pane. A lime-wood shim inserted between glass and frame soon found and lifted the latch. An earthy smell drifted out on the damp air as he swung the window inward and shimmied through. He wrinkled his nose. Someone in the household wasn’t feeling well, from the odor.

Holding his breath, Seregil stole silently to the door and inched it open. All was dark beyond. Listening intently for watchmen or wandering servants, he found the servants’ doorway behind a tapestry in the hallway near the kitchen and crept up to the second floor. Fortunately the stairs were solid and well maintained. They hardly creaked at all.

The library was at the front of the house, down a long corridor that branched off the one leading to the household sleeping quarters. An ornate Zengati carpet ran the length of the hall and muffled his footsteps nicely as he hurried along.

The simple lock on the library door was enough to keep servants and nosy guests out, but not Seregil. He pondered suggesting something more complex to Malthus the next time they met, but decided it would be an awkward topic to work into casual conversation.

Once inside he checked the locked drawers of the desk, finding little of interest, then searched the room for hidden compartments. Once again, it was all too easily found, in the wall behind a small tapestry. Dust had collected around the edges of a square of wood paneling, making it obvious to a trained eye. In Seregil’s experience, the more honest the person, the easier it was to burgle them. Feeling a little guilty, he carefully pried out the panel and found a flat wooden box hidden in the space behind it. Roughly square, the box was about a foot wide and half that thick. Seregil carried it to the desk and inspected it closely with the lightstone from his tool roll. Finally, a lock with a little spirit to it! Perhaps even a nasty device incorporated into the lock or brass plate. Smiling to himself, he took out the slender pick he’d designed for just such a situation. It was purposely bent so that it could probe the lock while keeping the hand out of range of any needles or other dangerous deterrents that might pop out.

It was a good thing, too. Malthus had been much more careful with this; a burst of white flame flared from the keyhole, melting the pick and catching the edge of Seregil’s rolled-up shirtsleeve on fire.

“Bilairy’s-!” Seregil struggled out of the shirt and hastily threw it away from him. He knew this magic. He’d seen

Thero-who had a peculiar fascination with all things flammable-place it on various objects to protect them. This sort of magical fire could consume flesh if in contact with it for more than a few seconds. For all Seregil knew, Thero had placed the magic on the box for Malthus himself. Unfortunately it set anything else it touched ablaze, too, and he’d thrown the shirt a little too close to the drapes behind the desk.

Hard-pressed to think how he could make things any worse, he grabbed the box, which had stopped spewing fire, and hurried back the way he’d come. As he passed the kitchen, he shouted “Fire! Fire upstairs!” and ran for the garderobe. Tossing the box out the window, he wiggled after it, grabbed it up again, and bolted for the garden wall. He could already smell smoke and cursed himself for a fool. The last thing he’d intended to was to burn down a friend’s house. Fortunately someone had already raised the alarm. He could hear shouting inside. Bolting through the garden, he heaved the box over the wall, then scrambled up the rope and down the other side.

He found Alec scrabbling around on the ground, gathering scattered documents and stuffing them into his shirt. Apparently there was no magic on the box to prevent it from smashing open when thrown over a wall onto a paved street.

“A little warning would have been nice,” Alec whispered as he grabbed up the last of the scattered documents. “You nearly brained me with that thing.”

“Sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

Alec looked up and sniffed. “Is that smoke?”

“Is it?” Seregil picked up the last pieces of the splintered box and hurried away with Alec close behind.

At the Stag and Otter, Alec shook the documents from under his shirt and spread them out on the table. There were five in all, ordinary missives from Nalian and Laneus with no apparent hidden messages, as well as one from Elani, thanking Malthus for some gift. This one bore both signature and the princess royal’s seal, and was in Elani’s hand.

“Well, that was a waste of time.” Alec stretched his arms

over his head and yawned. “Why would he go to the trouble to hide those?”

“Why, indeed.” Seregil turned his attention to the pieces of the box. It had landed on an upper corner; the left side panel was cracked, and the lid had broken in two, with one of the pieces hanging by one hinge. The lock plate was a melted medallion surrounded by charred wood. “You’d think he’d have used something sturdier.”

“He probably didn’t anticipate it being tossed over walls.”

Seregil detached the lid and set it aside with the splintered pieces. “Or he thought the fire spell on the lock would be enough to keep it safe.”

“Fire spell? So that wassmoke I smelled. What happened?”

“Just a little mishap with the drapes,” Seregil hedged. He scrutinized the bottom of the box, tapping it lightly with his finger. “I think there’s a space under here.”

He pulled the remains of the left side of the box free and his smile went a little crooked. There was, in fact, a false bottom, with a space about two inches deep beneath. “Lend me your knife.”

Alec gave him the black-and-silver-handled dagger and Seregil used it to pry the false bottom of the box free. Underneath he found a folded letter still bearing a waxy spot where the seal had been broken. Even though it had no salutation or signature, he immediately recognized the familiar, slanted script; it was from the same spy who’d sent the other messages to Reltheus, and written in the same code. Skimming it, Seregil made out “Ten more to the cause. Think the wolf bitch is watching. Taking steps.”

“If it is Reltheus who hired the Cat, then I bet this is what he was looking for,” mused Alec.

“Or something like it. It’s certainly proof enough that Laneus and his crew know about the other cabal. This ‘wolf bitch’ is almost certainly Beka. And ‘steps taken’ might refer to preparations for the assassination attempt. This isn’t good.”

“We have to warn her!”

“Yes, although if this was intercepted before it was seen by

Reltheus and the others, there may not have been any order sent back yet.”

“But if we give this to him-”

Seregil grinned. “Oh, we’ll give him something, all right.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Forge a replacement, of course.” Going to the basket on the desk, he took a piece of scraped parchment and began making the edges ragged and smudging it with soot from the hearth. When that was done, he mimicked the writing style of the sender and the code. His note read: Ten more to the cause. Wolf bitch suspects nothing.

“There, that should do it.” Seregil gathered the other papers. “When the time is right we’ll send these off to the Cat’s employer and see where they turn up. I’ll give this original to Thero.”

“What are we going to do about Malthus?”

“I think we’ll send an invitation for him to join us for dinner and a jaunt to the theater tomorrow night. Perhaps Thero would enjoy another evening out, as well.”

CHAPTER 22. Changes of Plans

SEREGIL and Alec were dressing for dinner with Malthus the following night while Thero, whom they’d finally worn down, strolled in the garden, when Runcer appeared at their chamber door with a sealed letter from Lady Ysmay.

Alec broke the seal and read the contents. “Oh no!” he gasped.

“What is it?” asked Seregil, looking up in the act of pulling on a boot.

“It’s Kylith. She’s-she’s dead.”

Seregil stared at him a moment, dumbstruck, then let the boot fall and reached for the letter. “Illior’s Light! Does it say how?”

“Died in her sleep in her bedchamber this afternoon.” Alec shook his head sadly. “She didn’t look sick at dinner last night.”

Stricken, Seregil sank back on the bed and rested his face in his hands. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew I’d outlive her, but she was one of my first friends when I came into society. She helped me so much-”

Alec went to him and put an arm around him as Seregil drew in a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I know she was more than a friend. It sounds like she went peacefully, at least.”

Seregil sighed. “Looks like we’ll be disappointing Malthus tonight. We’d better go give Thero the news.”

“What’s wrong?” the wizard asked the moment he laid eyes on them.

Seregil showed him the letter.

“May Astellus carry her gently. Seregil, I’m so sorry. She was a delightful lady.”

“The wake begins tomorrow morning. I’ll send a note to Malthus,” said Alec, taking charge.

“Thank you, tali.”

Atre was dressing to go out the following morning when Brader came in without knocking.

“What are you doing up here?” he demanded. “The others are already at the theater, waiting for rehearsal.”

“I’m afraid the theater will be dark tonight, and a few more besides,” said Atre, still dressing in front of the mirror on the wall. “Haven’t you heard? Lady Kylith passed away. I’m going to pay the respects of the company.”

Brader stared at him a moment, then grabbed him by the front of his fine linen shirt and slammed him against the wall hard enough to set the mirror swinging on its nail. “Not again!”

Atre grinned. “What makes you think-?”

Brader pulled his fist back, trembling with anger. “I can see it on you! I can see it in your eyes. You sworeto me!”

Atre ignored the imminent threat to his face. “She was old, cousin. Old people die. I understand that it was very peaceful. What do you care anyway? She’d already cut us off. What use was she anymore?”

“We’re safe here, Atre! Or we were. You’re taking too many anyway, and now?” He turned away with a look of disgust. “You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”

“You’ve forgotten what it’s like with the good ones, cousin. How you relished them. You’ve been living on crumbs for too long. I have another one with me, right over there. Seems old Marquis Yarin took sick suddenly at his summer estate last week. Such a pity. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t crave it as much as I do.”

“Brader, did you find him?” Merina called. They could hear her coming up the stairs.

Atre clucked his tongue. “Dear me, cousin, what will you tell her this time? Or shall I bring her into our little secret?”

Brader closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Damn you.”

“Brader, is that you?” Merina called from just outside.

“Yes, love. I found him. I’m afraid we’ve had some bad news.” He looked back at Atre as he reached for the door handle. “At least put something on your face!”

Atre lounged against the wall and pouted at him. “Oh, look, you’ve torn my favorite shirt.”

Leaving Atre to make himself presentable, Brader went to head off Merina. He thought he’d schooled his expression, but Merina took one look at him and her eyes widened with dismay.

“You two are fighting again?” She caught up with him and clasped him by the arm. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing, Brader! Things have been going so well. He’s happy. I thought you were happy, too.”

“It’s not that, love.” How he hated lying to her! “We’ve just had word that Lady Kylith died.”

“Oh, no!” Merina came into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. “The poor dear! She was so good to the children, and so generous.”

“Yes.” Brader held her close and kissed her hair. With her warm tears dampening his shirt, he couldn’t say any more than that. Building on the lie caught in his throat.

“Another dead patron,” she whispered against his chest.

“She was old, Merina, and she’d withdrawn her patronage.”

“She did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Merina sighed. “She wasn’t that old, Brader, and not the first. Sometimes I wonder if we bring bad luck with us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. People die.”

She gave him a worried look. “It’s more than just today. I’ve been concerned for a while now, though I haven’t wanted to say anything. Atre gets this gleam in his eye sometimes, something wild, and so often it means we’re moving on again. This is the best place we’ve ever been!”

“Not to worry, my dear!” Atre exclaimed as he came out of his room, dressed in his best black coat. “I’m off to pay the

company’s respects at poor Lady Kylith’s wake. Such a loss!” He kissed her cheek, then pulled on a fine pair of black kid gloves. “Nothing to fret your pretty head about, though. There are plenty more rich fish in this lovely, fertile Rhiminee sea, and I plan to stay here for a very long time.”

Seregil, Alec, and Thero arrived at Kylith’s villa to find it already full of mourners and a cold feast laid out in the reception hall. Dead she might be, but Kylith’s hospitality lived on. Looking around, Seregil saw Eirual and a number of her courtesans, as well as Count Selin and Malthus. A very somber Ysmay was attending to the guests, dressed in black and jet.

Seregil went to her and kissed her on both cheeks. “Ysmay, I’m sorry for your loss. Thank you for sending word.”

“Of course,” she replied sadly. “She loved both of you very much.” She paused and dabbed at her eyes with an already damp and wrinkled lace handkerchief. Seregil took his out and pressed it into her hand.

“Thank you. It was so sudden! And she was so looking forward to the play last night. She just said she was a little tired. I had no idea-”

“I doubt she did, either, my dear,” Seregil said.

“May we see her?” asked Alec.

“I’ll be here,” Thero told them.

Ysmay led Seregil and Alec up the gilded marble staircase to Kylith’s bedchamber, where the lady was laid out on the bed in a magnificent gold-embroidered gown and slippers, and heavy gold and ruby jewelry. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, as always, and adorned with jeweled pins.

“You did her proud, Ysmay.” Seregil went to the bedside. “Rhiminee has lost some of its light today.” He placed a hand over Kylith’s where they rested on her breast and bent to kiss her brow. A single tear ran down her cheek as if she were weeping rather than him. Accepting Alec’s handkerchief, he carefully blotted the streak of moisture away so as not to mar her carefully applied cosmetics.

They returned downstairs to find Duke Reltheus there.

“Such a wonderful lady.” Reltheus sighed. “I wish I’d gotten to know her better.”

“Mother is devastated,” said Selin. “She was friends with her since before I was born. Lady Kylith was always there, my whole life, like an extra aunt.” He broke off and wiped his eyes.

Just then Atre was ushered in by the doorman. He could easily have been mistaken for a nobleman, so richly was he dressed and bejeweled. His mouth was set in a tragic line, and he looked pale and drawn.

“I hope I do not give offense with my presence,” he murmured, coming over to join them. He cast a curious look at Thero. “I could not believe the news. Though when you did not come to the theater last night– Such a tragedy!”

At this range Seregil could see that Atre was wearing a bit of cosmetics. His grief might be genuine, perhaps enough to affect his looks, but his vanity was clearly intact.

They exchanged condolences, then Atre went to offer his sympathies to the grieving niece.

“He must have been very fond of her,” said Thero.

“Perhaps, though I think he was more interested in her purse, which is now in the hands of Ysmay.”

Thero shook his head disapprovingly. “The man is nothing if not bold.”

“It’s a shame he and Kylith were on such strained terms at the end,” said Alec.

Ysmay was weeping in Atre’s arms now.

Seregil frowned, watching them. “It doesn’t seem to have affected relations with the niece. I suspect he’s just secured his new patron.”

CHAPTER 23. Malthus

“WELCOME, my friend, it’s been too long since you’ve dined with us!” Seregil exclaimed the following evening as Runcer ushered Duke Malthus into the salon. The theater was still closed in mourning for Kylith, and it was too soon to go out carousing.

“Not that long, certainly?” Malthus replied with a sad smile. “Terrible thing, Kylith. She’ll certainly be missed. Good evening, Alec.”

Alec shook hands. “Good to see you. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I must leave after supper for another appointment.”

“Not at all, dear boy! Attending to Princess Elani again?”

“No, Seregil forgot that I’d promised to visit Myrhichia tonight.”

Malthus raised an eyebrow at that.

“They’re friends,” Seregil said with a chuckle as he led the way to the dining room. “I understand you had an unfortunate bit of excitement at your house the other night.”

“You could call it that. Some servant left a candle burning in the library and set the room on fire.”

“Oh, dear! I hope the damage wasn’t too serious.”

“Fortunately it was confined to the library,” Malthus said with a sigh. “Gutted that room, though, and took all my books and papers with it. My wife has gone to our summer estate until the mess is dealt with.”

“How inconvenient for you,” Seregil commiserated, secretly relieved that he hadn’t done more damage than that. At least the fire had covered the theft.

He and Alec kept the conversation genial over the roast quail and white pear and cheese tart. As they adjourned to the library upstairs for Zengati brandy, Alec excused himself. “Good night, Malthus.”

“It’s been good talking with you.”

“I won’t be late, Seregil.”

“See that you’re not,” Seregil said teasingly.

When Alec was gone, Seregil closed the library door and locked it. “Malthus, I arranged for him to be gone. I have something very serious to speak of, and I don’t want him involved. I pray you’ll hear me out.”

The man raised a surprised eyebrow. “ Youbeing serious, Seregil? I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed that.”

“Perhaps not, but I’m serious now.” Seregil filled a cup for each of them from the crystal brandy decanter and sat down with him by the window. He paused and sipped his drink. “You know how gossip floats around the city.”

“Yes, and how you take it in.”

“Yes, well-This isn’t easy, my friend, but I’ve heard whisperings that a group of nobles may have ideas about putting Princess Klia on the throne, and– Well, your name came up.”

“That’s preposterous!” Malthus exclaimed indignantly, but he wasn’t as skillful a liar as Seregil. “Where did you hear this?”

“I can’t say, but I think by your expression that I’m not wide of the mark.”

“You’re wrong, Seregil. I wouldn’t have any part of that.” He paused, a little short of breath. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

“No, of course not. I speak to you as a friend, Malthus. And one concerned with your safety.” That last bit was true, at least.

The duke’s hand was unsteady as he sipped his brandy. “I appreciate your discretion and your concern, but you must put such thoughts out of your mind at once.”

“Of course.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a few moments, then Malthus said, “Princess Elani is a fine girl, very intelligent, by all accounts. But she is very young, don’t you think?”

“She wouldn’t be the first green girl to wear the crown,” Seregil replied with a shrug. “But really, chances are she’ll be grown and more experienced before she has to rule. Phoria is healthy and from a long-lived line.”

“Her mother died in battle,” Malthus reminded him.

“Yes, she did. And I suppose you’re right to think there’s always that possibility. But deposing her heir? By the Light, that would mean civil war. You can’t want that.”

“Of course not.” Malthus paused. “You have gotten on very good terms with the princess, haven’t you? And Duke Reltheus, who’s so close to her.”

“Alec and I have that honor.”

Malthus gave him a thoughtful look. “Perhaps you’ve lost some of your affection for Klia.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, my friend, but I am and always will be Klia’s friend and supporter. And because of that, I could never believe that she would do anything that would threaten Skala’s well-being and stability. Don’t tell me you do?”

“No, but I’m not so certain about Reltheus and his lot.”

Seregil shook his head. “I’m completely confused. First it’s Klia, then it’s Reltheus. I’ve never heard anything of this from you before. Please, Malthus, speak plainly!”

“I don’t know if I can, Seregil. With your new friends…”

“Are you saying that Reltheusis up to something?”

Malthus nodded. “He’s a smooth man. A very smooth man, and an ambitious one. You’d do well to be careful around him. He may seem to be your friend, but I suspect he’s more concerned with your connection to the throne.”

“He’s better connected at court than I’ve ever been.”

Malthus gave him a long, measuring look. “Are you going to report me to the queen, or Korathan?”

“If I was, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking now. And what is there to report? I’m your friend, Malthus. I don’t mean you any harm. I asked you here to try to save you from disaster, and anyone else involved in this madness.”

“You’re satisfied with my innocence, I hope.”

“Of course, and I’m glad of it! You wouldn’t just be putting your own head on a spike, you know. Alec and I are rumored

to be part of it. And if word of this ever reached the queen, do you think she would believe for one moment that Klia wasn’t involved, as well? I only hope it’s not too late to quell such rumors. If I’ve heard of it, then others must have.”

“Where did you hear of it?” Malthus asked again.

“Some noble I met at Kylith’s salon. I don’t even remember his name. But you can rely on me to uphold your honor. You have nothing to fear from me, I assure you.” Seregil was beginning to feel a bit heartsick with all these empty promises.

“And Alec knows nothing of this?”

“No, and I have no intention of involving him. That’s why I sent him out tonight.”

Malthus clasped Seregil’s hands tightly. “Thank you, my friend, for this warning. Rest assured that I have taken everything you’ve said to heart.” This time, to his credit, he spoke with an almost convincing lack of concern.

Hidden in the bedroom, Alec heard the library door open and the sound of Seregil and Malthus going downstairs, chatting amiably. He waited for some time before it was clear that Malthus was in no hurry to take his leave. Perhaps Seregil had suggested a game to finish off the evening. Or they’d gone out together.

Alec, already changed into a dark, plain coat, was pacing impatiently when Seregil finally came in, looking serious. “Well?”

“Go.”

Alec hurried off after Malthus.

Seregil went to his clothes chest and retrieved the fake message he’d crafted. “Now let’s send you home.”

The first leg of the letter’s journey began at the inn. One of the scullions took the wrapped and sealed packet and a handful of silver half sesters from Ema, unaware of Seregil-plainly dressed and armed with the tools of his trade-trailing along behind. Not surprisingly, the first stop was the Black Feather, where the boy left it and some coins with the landlord. It was late, and the barmaids began putting up

the shutters. As the tavern cleared, the tavern keeper placed the packet-minus a few coins, no doubt-behind the model ship on the mantelpiece and reversed the ship’s direction, then called the girls away into the back of the shop. One of the drinkers, a young ne’er-do-well in a broken-brimmed hat, had lingered behind, and as soon as they were gone he grabbed the packet and money, tucked it into the front of his coat, and strode out, not noticing the dark shape ghosting after him.

Packet and coins changed hands again at a cheese shop, where a young boy took them and changed direction, heading at last toward the Noble Quarter, as expected.

The hunt ended, not at Reltheus’s villa, but at Marquis Kyrin’s. The sentries at the gate seemed familiar with the boy and let him pass.

Seregil ran silently down the side street to the alley behind the duke’s high garden wall. The barrel Alec had told him of was still there, lying on its side across the way next to a garbage pile. It served well again, and Seregil was soon through the garden and on the balcony outside the duke’s library. The heavy draperies were pulled across the window, but as he waited he saw the glow of a lamp in the sliver of space between the panels. Seregil pressed close to the glass, peering in.

Inside, Kyrin walked to his desk and opened the packet, frowning as he carefully perused it. The frown soon changed to a look of relief. The marquis went to the painted cabinet Alec had searched his last time here. Opening both doors, he reached inside and did something that pivoted the cabinet out to reveal a dark hidden room or passageway, then disappeared inside with the lamp.

Well, well, thought Seregil. I wonder what you keep there?

He waited until Kyrin reappeared and left the room with his lamp, then waited a bit longer, just to be safe.

Seregil threw the window latch with a shim and slipped inside, relying on the faint moonlight to see.

Alec had warned him about the device on the cabinet lock. Taking out his lightstone, he found the telltale pits in the lock

plate. He picked the lock carefully, angling his hand so the long needles didn’t pierce it when they sprang out.

Opening the cabinet, Seregil cautiously reached inside, looking for the mechanism. It turned out to be nothing more than a small brass lever that secured the cabinet and its panel in place.

Cool, stale air drafted out as he turned the cabinet and slipped behind it. He found himself on a small stone landing above a short flight of stairs. Seregil pulled the secret door nearly closed, in case someone wandered in, but not all the way since he couldn’t seem to find any corresponding lever on this side.

He was about to go down the stairs when he caught sight of a slight space between the first stair and the riser. Kneeling, he pressed on the step and watched the stairs pivot on some unseen mechanism to become a smooth granite slide. A large trapdoor fell open at the bottom, revealing a square of blackness, ready to swallow up the unwitting thief. Seregil took his hand away and the stairs righted themselves, looking deceptively solid. With a creak of hidden pulleys, the trapdoor closed. Any unwary thief would be securely held until the master of the house came to find him. Or perhaps already impaled on iron spikes or blades. It was as nasty as it was ingenious, Seregil thought, impressed. It was the most elegant device he’d seen for some time. Now to find the locking mechanism.

By the lightstone’s glow he inspected the stonework on either side of the landing. An iron lever was set into the mortar, just inside the door, quite out of sight unless you knew to look for it. He pulled it down and heard the rasp of metal somewhere underfoot. Pulling the lever down as far as it would go, Seregil felt it shift, no doubt locking into place. He was cautious all the same, testing the upper step again. It seemed solid.

The stairway was narrow enough for him to press his palms firmly against the rough stonework as he made his way down, just in case the stairs went out from under him. Even now he went cautiously, aware that where there was one trap there might very likely be another, perhaps like the

glyphs that protected his own secret staircase at the inn. But Kyrin either was too cautious to share his secret with a wizard, or lacked imagination, for Seregil reached the small chamber at the bottom without incident. Hopping over the trapdoor, he held up the lightstone.

The room was sparsely furnished with a desk and two large cabinets similar to the one upstairs. The sweet aroma of snuffed candles still hung on the stale air.

The cabinets were all locked and needle-trapped. Seregil carefully picked the lock of the left-hand cabinet and found stacks of papers on an upper shelf, and on the lower one cloth-wrapped parcels that reminded him of round wheels of Kerry cheese. He reached for one and found it surprisingly heavy. Undoing the wrappings, he saw that it was an Aurenfaie kar, a bowl-shaped ingot of pure gold about the size of a large bird’s nest. There were fifty-two in all. Seregil whistled softly through his teeth as he examined the markings on it; it bore Golinil clan’s hallmark.

So Kyrin must be smuggling something south, but what? The khirnariof Golinil was hand in glove with the khirnari of neighboring Viresse; together they had opposed the opening of Aurenfaie ports other than wealthy Viresse, a treaty made by Klia. Perhaps they were backing a plot against her out of revenge, or foresight, if they really believed that she was a viable rival for the throne. Seregil eyed the kars; this represented a considerable amount of support by the ’faie, in return for what must have been some pretty convincing assurances from Kyrin. Since Aurenen was a collection of separate but interdependent clans, Golinil could do this, while other clans, especially the western ones like Bokthersa, benefited from the open ports and supported Phoria in her war.