Текст книги "Cascet of Souls"

Автор книги: Lynn Flewelling

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The actor blinked, caught off guard at having his polite blandishment taken literally. “Of course, my lord.”

“Good. We’ll talk soon. I’d like to see this place in Gannet Lane before I decide whether to invest in it or not.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Atre bowed again and went to find another partner.

“He’s a fickle one,” Kylith murmured as she took Seregil’s hand for the next dance.

“I hope you don’t think I encouraged him too much.”

“No matter. He’s handsome enough that I can forgive him a bit of flirting, although men aren’t really his sort.”

“But he knows they are my sort,” Seregil noted. “And he is an accomplished actor.”

“You are going to invest in his theater, aren’t you?”

“Are you?”

“We simply must get him out of that dreadful place they’re in now! And admit it, he charmed you.”

Seregil gave her a gallant smile. “You’re a wicked woman, my lady.”

Alec smiled and nodded to everyone, and gave the simpering youths and girls enough attention to be polite but not encouraging-which, to his continual surprise, seemed to

make him all the more alluring-and let the older ones fuss over him or regale him, as the case might be. When he’d had enough, he escaped to the dancing, which he’d come to enjoy very much since those first awkward lessons at Watermead.

He’d just finished a reel with Illia, and was about to make his way through the press to seek out Selin when a bit of conversation caught his attention.

“I’m as fond of Seregil as anyone,” Duchess Nerian was saying to Duke Malthus as they stood with heads together near the servants’ passage, “but this is different. The Aurenfaie know they have us over a barrel and they’re taking full advantage.”

Alec lingered inconspicuously, listening carefully as Nerian harangued Malthus about the price of Aurenfaie steel. Her name had been on Marquis Kyrin’s list, together with Malthus’s.

“They are abiding by the terms arranged by Princess Klia,” Malthus reminded her. “It’s hardly their fault that the war continues to drag on. Like it or not, we need foreign horses, steel, and grain. Mycena’s decimated. There are reports of starvation in the midlands and along the river. The northern trade routes are unreliable at best this summer. There hasn’t been a gold shipment to the Royal Treasury since early spring. The ’faie are already granting us credit. Really, my friend, I think you’re being unfair.”

Nerian paused a moment, then turned away, muttering, “Well, I suppose you’dsee it that way. Sometimes I wonder if you’re really-” Just then she caught sight of Alec and smiled. “Happy name day, Alec. So nice of you to invite me.”

The abrupt change was not lost on Alec, nor Malthus’s look of discomfort. “I’m delighted to see you again, my lady,” he replied. “I hope you didn’t find the fare too paltry.”

“Hardly! Your Sara is amazing.”

Alec lingered for a bit of small talk until he spied Selin talking to a poet at the bottom of the staircase. Before Alec could reach him, however, he was waylaid by Eirual and Myrhichia.

“I think you owe us both a dance, Lord Alec, to make up

for your absence from our house,” Eirual declared, her violet eyes bright with amusement and wine.

“Both at once?” asked Alec.

Eirual laughed, making the jeweled netting over her breasts twinkle in the candlelight. “You know I charge more for that, my lord.” If she’d meant to make Alec blush, it worked. It was an affliction he seemed not to be growing out of. “No, you take my lovely girl here. I’ll go find that lover of yours, if I can pry him away from those young men.”

Indeed, Seregil was presently hemmed in by the poets and their set across the room near the front entrance. Thero was with him, and appeared to be enjoying some spirited debate with Donaeus. Eirual strode through the press and claimed Seregil for her own, pulling him by the hand from their midst and out to dance.

The musicians struck up another reel and Alec took the young courtesan in his arms and whirled her across the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Illia beaming and chattering away as she danced with Atre, who appeared to be charming her the way he did every other female in the room.

Myrhichia laughed, cheeks flushed and strands of her dark hair escaping from the jeweled pins to frame her pretty face. “You’re in fine form tonight, my lord!”

“It must be my dancing partner’s influence,” he replied gallantly. In fact, he liked her quite a lot. She was the second-and last-woman he’d slept with, the only time he’d done so willingly. He’d been halfway up the brothel stairs with her that night before he realized that she looked a bit like Seregil with her dark hair and grey eyes. That had been the beginning of a succession of unsettling revelations, the upshot of which had kept him out of brothels and women’s beds ever since, but he still felt a certain affection and gratitude toward her, and was beginning to have a greater appreciation of how Seregil remained friends with past lovers.

Myrhichia was smart and amusing and proud of her craft, which involved a great deal more than what went on upstairs. She was a lovely singer, skilled conversationalist, played

several instruments, and had Seregil’s own skill at bakshi and cards. It was not at all uncommon for young nobles to engage the services of such women for the mere pleasure of their company, and Myrhichia had many admirers.

Illia caught him next and held on to him for three dances, teasing him through every one of them.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, swinging her around the steps of a gallop. “You look very grown-up with your hair up like that.”

“I am getting grown-up,” she replied haughtily. “And I’m still a better dancer than you are.”

“You’ll have to take that up with Beka, then, since she’s the one who taught me.”

“I remember, that first time you came out to Watermead. You were a regular donkey, stepping all over her feet.”

“You’d better be nice to me on my name day, or I’ll tread on yours,” he warned, hoisting her into the air as the music ended.

Illia let out a most un-grown-up squeal, but hugged him soundly as soon as he put her down.

He finally managed to excuse himself and caught Selin in the dining room, where people were playing cards. Elsbet was there, and had a respectable pile of winnings in front of her. Alec gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and she went pink in the face.

“I didn’t know priestesses in training were allowed to gamble,” he teased as Elsbet laid another winning card on the table and her opponents groaned.

“They shouldn’t be,” Selin exclaimed, throwing down his cards in disgust and paying his wager as Alec took a seat beside him. “Illior favors gamblers, and she wears the Immortal’s mark.”

“Uncle Seregil taught me to play,” said Elsbet. “I don’t need any more luck than that.”

“My apologies, I was only joking,” Selin returned, blushing, and Alec realized that the young lord’s chaffing might be more than idle banter. He seemed quite entranced by Elsbet’s quiet charm. “I’m not playing with you, either!” he announced to Alec, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “My

grandmother taught me never to wager against anyone on their name day. It’s bad luck the rest of the year if you lose.”

“If I lose or you lose?”

Selin thought a moment, clearly well into his wine. “Well, I don’t recall, but it’s bad luck for one of us and I’m not going to risk it.”

“Why don’t we take a turn in the garden?” Alec suggested. “It’s much cooler out there.”

Selin, who’d lost most of his right leg in a carriage accident as a child, retrieved his ornate crutch and nimbly followed Alec outside. It was a clear, moonless night, but the stars were bright enough to cast shadows. The trailing roses on the arbors were in full bloom, scenting the night air.

“What have you been up to all summer?” asked Alec. “We haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Tending to my mother’s affairs,” Selin replied. “Since Father died, she’s gone to pieces. She stays in bed all day, sometimes.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But you do get free now and then, obviously.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve managed one hunt this summer, and I attend Archduchess Alaya’s salons whenever I can.”

Ah, there was an opening. “How do you know her?”

“Mother sends me for the latest gossip. It’s one of her few pleasures these days.”

“Isn’t Duke Reltheus a friend of the archduchess?”

“Why, yes! And a friend of mine, as well. Do you know him?”

“No, but I’ve heard he’s an interesting conversationalist.” Alec had, of course, heard no such thing. Fortunately, his guess was on target.

“A very amusing fellow!” Selin agreed. “The archduchess is very fond of the man.”

“How do they know each other?” Alec asked.

“The princess royal hunted on his estate last winter. His forests are teeming with deer! Princess Elani’s whole court accompanied her, and evidently the archduchess was quite taken with him then.” Selin lowered his voice with a wink.

“It’s rumored that the princess was rather enamored of his oldest son, Danos, too.”

Alec pretended surprise. “So Danos is courting the princess?”

“From a distance, if he is. He’s with the Queen’s Horse Guard.” Selin sounded a little wistful, absently drumming his fingers on his crutch. “To be honest, I don’t know the son as well as the father. Duke Reltheus is quite the bakshi player.”

“Perhaps you could introduce us sometime. He sounds like a fellow worth knowing.”

“I’d be happy to! Write me tomorrow and I’ll arrange something.”

This had been a good night’s work after all.

Thero was rather drunk and dancing with Elsbet Cavish when he suddenly felt a faint crawling sensation on the back of his neck again; it could have been a spider but he sensed a whiff of magic to it. Looking around the crowded room, he couldn’t find the source. It was gone as quickly as it came.

“Is something wrong, Thero?” asked Elsbet.

“No, I felt something odd, just now.”

“Magic?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, maybe someone is wearing a strong charm.” She gave him a twinkling smile. “Or maybe it’s the wine.”

“You’re probably right.” But he spent some time wandering among the crowd afterward, without success.

Kari took the exhausted younger children upstairs around midnight, but the party lasted most of the night. Lord Seregil kept an excellent cellar and the wine, ale, and Zengati brandy flowed very freely. The younger guests-and some of the more feckless older ones-overindulged, as was to be expected. Dawn was breaking when the last of the ambulatory ones were seen off, and the ones left snoring in a stupor on benches and under tables had been made comfortable with pillows and blankets.

Seregil yawned and clapped Alec and Micum on the

shoulder as he looked around the salon with satisfaction. “I always say it’s not a successful party unless someone pukes in the garden.”

Alec gave him a wry look. “Then it was a rousing success. We should have set out buckets.”

“I don’t envy your servants who have to clean up,” said Micum as he followed them upstairs, weaving a little. He paused as they reached the landing. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Did you hear any talk of Princess Klia tonight?”

“No,” Seregil replied.

“Malthus and Duchess Nerian were talking about the truce she made with Aurenen,” said Alec. “And she was on Kyrin’s list.”

“List?” asked Micum.

“I’ll explain when we’re sober,” Seregil told him.

“Count Selin asked after Klia, knowing that Beka serves under her,” Micum told them. “I didn’t think much of it. Then I caught her name again when I was out for a stroll in the garden to clear my head. I passed Lord Areus and Lady Yrin whom I thought were doing the same.”

“Their names were on that list, too,” said Alec.

“They had their heads together and I caught Klia’s name and something about the succession,” Micum went on. “When they saw me, they started chatting with me about horses.”

“Interesting,” said Seregil, and yawned again. “Not the sort of thing most people chance talking about in public, though. The succession. Not horses.”

“They were well into their cups.”

“Too bad you didn’t hear more of it.”

“I managed to work Beka into the conversation. They didn’t know that she serves under Klia. Anyway, that didn’t go anywhere. I thought it was all a bit odd.”

“I’ll have to sound them out, next chance-” Seregil said, and yawned until his jaw cracked.

“Bed?” asked Alec.

“Excellent idea!”

Micum grinned. “Don’t expect to see me before supper tonight.”

He went to the library first, though, and Alec paused by the open doorway, watching Micum lift Illia from the armchair where she’d fallen asleep. There was a burned-down candle on the stand by the chair, and a book on the carpet in front of her, where it had fallen. Micum laid her on the couch that had been prepared for her and pulled up the blankets, then gave Alec a wink and whispered, “Don’t tell her mother.”

Alec nodded, and followed Seregil into their chamber.

Seregil had tossed his coat in the general direction of the wardrobe, kicked off his shoes, and sprawled facedown across the bed.

Alec closed their door and draped his coat over the back of a chair by the window to air.

“I saw you talking to Selin finally,” Seregil said, his voice somewhat muffled by the bedclothes.

Alec flopped down beside him. “I think Danos might be the one sending those coded dispatches to his father. He’s in Klia’s squadron.”

“Spying on his own commander? That’s not very loyal. Did you get anything else out of Selin?”

“He’s going to introduce us to Duke Reltheus, who happens to be a gambling man.”

“Excellent! That should make things easier!” Seregil turned over and propped himself against the bolsters. “Did you enjoy your party?”

“Of course I did, tali.” Alec moved around to rest his head on Seregil’s lean thigh. “I got Elsbet to dance, and I beat all the bakshi players in the dining room while you were cornered by those poets. What did you learn from that pack of leeches this time?”

“Leeches in packs!” Seregil chuckled at the image. “Let’s see. Lady Lania is cuckolding her husband with two different lovers and no one knows whose child she’s carrying. Duke Northus’s wife ran away because he beat her once too often. Korathan’s beautiful young Lord Byris gorges on sweets behind closed doors, and keeps his figure by tickling the back of his throat with a goose feather to bring them all up again. Lady Mora is sleeping with Lady Stania. The usual foolishness.”

“I overheard something more interesting than that.” Alec told him of the conversation between Malthus and Nerian. “I thought they were friends, but they sounded angry.”

“The heat and the shortages are rubbing tempers raw. When Phoria comes back, things will calm down.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone grumbling against the ’faie.” Alec tugged gently on a lock of Seregil’s long hair. “You call attention to yourself, you know.”

“We’re ’faie, Alec,” Seregil said, eyes fluttering shut. He wound his fingers in Alec’s thick hair. “At least I am, as far as anyone knows, and obviously you’re in my thrall. No one cares-” He yawned again. “-how long our hair is. And Phoria isn’t happy with us anyway, after we cocked up that last job.”

“Maybe not, but it’s things like that that are dividing the nobles,” Alec mused. “How can Phoria go out of her way to insult an ally like Aurenen when they’re her greatest source of help now that Mycena is ravaged? And this talk of the queen not considering the truce? Do you think that may have something to do with whatever it is Reltheus and Kyrin are up to?”

“Too soon to tell.”

Alec grinned as he ran a finger down Seregil’s cheek, admiring the smooth, beardless skin. “That actor was certainly doing his best to charm you.”

“Me and everyone else.” Seregil caught Alec’s hand and looked down at him. “Did it bother you?”

“No, tali. He’s just vain and wants your money.”

“Our money. And you’re right about that. Seems we’re about to own a partial interest in a theater.”

CHAPTER 9. Patrons of the Art

THE next day Seregil went to speak with Thero about what they’d learned at the party, and Kari went out with Elsbet and Illia to buy fabric. Alec remained behind with Micum and the boys to practice shooting in the garden. The new Radly already felt familiar in his hands, but too much city living threatened to dull his skills. Gherin and Luthas had toy bows, and Micum and Alec were teaching them how to use them, amid much laughter.

Runcer leaned out the dining room door. “My lord, Master Atre is here.”

“Send him out,” said Alec.

The actor greeted Alec and Micum warmly and produced pennies out of the air for the boys, earning delighted laughter and a hug from each of them.

“You certainly have fine children, Lord Micum,” he said when the boys had run off to play again. “And please, don’t stop what you’re doing on my account! I heard a great deal about Lord Alec’s skills as an archer last night.”

“All true,” Micum assured him. “I’ve never seen the like.”

“I’d love to see for myself, if it’s not impertinent of me to ask.”

The man’s manner was less fawning and flowery today, Alec noted, wondering if it was the lack of wine or the present audience. Taking up his bow again, Alec sent four shafts in quick succession into the center of the bull’s-eye target at the far end of the garden, then framed them with a star pattern of five more.

Atre clapped appreciatively. “The praise I heard was no exaggeration, my lord. You must be a formidable huntsman. Or were you a soldier?”

“Hunter.” Alec set the bow and shatta-decked quiver aside on a stone table. “Can I offer you something to drink? We’re sticking to cider today, but there’s wine if you’d prefer.”

Atre patted his flat belly. “Cider, please! I’m still a bit delicate.”

Runcer brought another cup and they sat down in a shady corner, enjoying the scents of the summer flowers and herbs around them. The conversation turned naturally to the theater, and Atre enthusiastically described his latest play and the theater in Gannet Lane where he hoped to move his company as soon as their fortunes increased. He was clearly angling for money, but his obvious love of his craft was contagious and Alec found himself asking questions about acting and theaters. Micum asked a few questions himself.

“Lord Seregil said that he’d like to see the Gannet Lane theater,” Atre said, steering the conversation back to that. “You must come with him, my lords.”

“I’m heading home early tomorrow,” Micum told him. “I have hay and oats to cut.”

“Well, I’d like to see the place,” said Alec.

“So would I.” Seregil stood in the dining room doorway in his shirtsleeves. “Though I suspect it’s going to be an expensive visit.”

Atre laughed. “I fear you may be right, my lord, if fate chooses to smile on me in my venture. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

“Very well.”

“Thank you, my lords! May your Lightbringer smile on you in all things. And you must see the new play. The money you gave us on the occasion of our first meeting has been most helpful. You will see a great improvement in our costuming.”

“I was very impressed with how you made do, especially the cosmetics. Charcoal and chalk, wasn’t it?” Seregil asked.

Atre looked pleasantly surprised at that. “Why, yes, and some candle tallow.”

“What was it you used in place of carmine?”

“A distillation of some red flowers we found growing in the ditches outside the city. You’re most observant, my lord. Few of our patrons pay any attention to such details.”

“Well, as you guessed, I have a few amateur theatricals in my past.”

Alec tried not to smile as he exchanged a quick, knowing look with Micum. They’d both seen him play roles ranging from crippled beggars and old men to the lovely, if somewhat disconcerting, Lady Gwethelyn.

“I’d like to discuss this theater of yours further, Master Atre,” said Seregil. “Will you stay for dinner?”

“I’m most honored, my lord, but sadly, I must decline, as we have a performance tonight and I must be there to manage things, as well as play the central role.”

“Ah, of course. Another time, then. I won’t keep you.”

Atre bowed and took his leave.

Seregil sat down and poured himself a cup of cider. “Charming, isn’t he?”

“And persistent,” Micum said with a chuckle. “He didn’t waste any time coming back.”

“Hardly surprising. According to him, they’re having to turn people away at the door at their current location. I’d say he’s going to be a very rich man before long.”

“And you like him,” Alec observed. “So do I. I bet he’d make a good nightrunner.”

“No doubt he would. Actors often make good spies. We’ll have to keep an eye on that one.”

Atre met them in Gannet Lane at the appointed time. Lady Kylith was there as well, fanning herself in her open carriage.

“I’m so glad you two have decided to invest,” she said as Alec helped her down.

“I didn’t know it was a foregone conclusion,” Seregil replied.

She laughed and rapped him with her fan.

“I wouldn’t presume!” Atre exclaimed.

“You might as well.” Seregil sighed dramatically. “My

lady here seems to have made up her mind on the matter. Come on, then. Let’s have a look.”

This theater was a far cry from the one in Basket Street. The huge polished wood doors were carved with the Eye of Illior, patron Immortal of creativity and actors, as well as wizards, nightrunners, and the mad. Inside there were banks of proper benches and a dozen fine boxes large enough for couches and wine tables. The stage was twice the size of the one at Basket Street, and flanked by tall wooden columns carved in the shapes of trees whose branches, laden with gilt leaves and fruit, spread across the theater ceiling. Atre led them around it, pointing out the finer details of the stage area, then took them back through the warren of little dressing and storage rooms behind it.

“It’s perfect, and worthy of your fine company,” Kylith said at last. “Seregil, you and Alec will be generous, won’t you?”

Seregil looked around approvingly. “It makes a nice change from my usual investments.”

“And once the army comes home, business should be even brisker,” added Alec.

“It will be before then, I assure you,” Atre told him. “Our Mycenian patrons tripled their money in a year. I expect we’ll do at least as well here.”

“Illior’s Light, it’s not about money!” Kylith exclaimed, scandalized. “I’m not in trade, Master Atre. No offense to you, dear Seregil.”

“None taken, dear lady.”

“No, I only wish to bring the beauty of your artistry to its proper standing in Rhiminee,” Kylith said, patting Atre’s arm.

Atre gave Kylith a warm look that made even the seasoned old courtier blush. “You are most gracious, my lady.” Then, to Seregil and Alec, “All our performances will be dedicated to you three. And I am, as always, my lady, at your service.”

“He made me the same promise the other night at the party,” Seregil told her with a wink. “Perhaps we should work out a schedule?”