Cascet of souls n-6

by Lynn Flewelling

  Atre covered his annoyance with another smile and allowed a servant to lead them to the back of the house, where

  the cook, to her credit, offered them a very fine venison pie and excellent wine. Still-in the kitchen!

  While they were eating the cook and her scullion took their leave for the night, leaving them alone. Atre saw a chance and took it.

  “You stay here,” he told Tanni, patting her arm. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just to look in on our host and thank him for this fine repast.”

  He gave her a wink and retraced his way to the salon. Finding the corridor deserted, he put his ear to the door.

  “I don’t mean to offend, Malthus, but I begin to doubt your faith,” the fat general was saying.

  “Just because I won’t go along with out-and-out murder?” Malthus replied. His voice was soft, but the actor could still hear the anger that edged his words. “Tell me, my friends: are we seriously contemplating that?”

  Atre’s eyes widened. This was not at all the sort of conversation he’d expected. He held his breath and put his eye to the thin opening between the door and frame. Malthus was on his feet, pacing, while the others sipped their wine.

  “A quick slice makes for the most successful surgery,” Duchess Nerian noted, swirling the wine in her cup. “We can’t simply ask Phoria to step aside, now can we?”

  “And then there’s Elani to be dealt with, after that,” Duke Zymir said. A chill ran up Atre’s spine, thinking of the gracious young girl. If anyone was going to claim her life, it was going to be him! Anything else would be a ridiculous waste.

  “Not if she were to have an unfortunate accident or illness,” Zymir replied. “Now that they’ve chosen to attack Klia herself!”

  “The message said it was Plenimaran assassins,” said Malthus.

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” asked Laneus. “No, I think the battle has been joined.”

  “I wonder if an assassin could breach the Palace?” said Marquise Lalia.

  “Perhaps that Rhiminee Cat fellow?” Sarien suggested. “By all reports the man can break in anywhere.”

  “He’s no assassin, as far as I know.”

  “But this is ridiculous!” Malthus objected again.

  “You want Klia on the throne as badly as any of us, don’t you?” asked Laneus.

  “Yes, of course, but-”

  “Then don’t stand in our way.” That sounded like a threat, though the man’s cool smile never faltered. “But we do need someone close to her. Reltheus and Kyrin have Alaya in their snare. Perhaps one of the squires? Or-” He paused and turned to Malthus again. “What about that ’faie friend of yours, Lord Seregil, and his boy? Word is Elani is quite enchanted with them.”

  “Seregil?” Lalia sneered. “I wouldn’t trust that wastrel with a half-sester piece. And he’s one of the greatest gossips in Rhiminee.”

  “But he has excellent connections to the royal family, and Klia in particular. And you’ve always said there’s more to him than most people see, haven’t you, Malthus?”

  Malthus sighed. “I don’t know. He’s on good terms with Korathan, as well, and if word ever got to the vicegerent about any of this-” He shook his head. “Let me think on it. And for the love of Sakor, leave off this talk of killing! I thought our purpose was to protect Klia from Kyrin and his lot.”

  Just then Atre heard footsteps approaching from the front hall and hastily retreated to the kitchen before he was seen. Tanni was where he’d left her, bored and fashioning little shapes out of bread.

  “Can we go now?” she asked with a yawn.

  “Of course, my girl. Come and say your farewells.”

  Atre made a point of conversing with her on the way back, to let Laneus and his conspirators know they were coming. He suspected neither of their lives would be worth much if the nobles knew what he’d heard.

  Back at the house in Gannet Lane, Atre saw Tanni to the room she shared with her brother. Going up to his own chamber,

  he pocketed a few items from the box hidden in the wardrobe, took the battered leather box down from the shelf, and slipped out again, unseen.

  The small, plain room smelled of damp earth and contained only the few things Atre needed. He locked the low door behind him and set the lantern on the table in the middle of the room. Its light reflected off dozens of glass phials carefully arranged in tall racks against the far wall. Most of them were empty now. The old clay bottles, inherited from Atre’s mother with her power, had long since been broken or lost in their frequent escapes. The glass ones suited his purposes much better; you could see what was inside.

  Atre went to the corner farthest from the door and pried out a loose stone from the wall. In the space behind it was a small iron box. Carrying it to the table, he unlocked it and lifted out the ancient necklace it contained. It was made of human finger bones strung on a rawhide thong made of human skin, or so his mother had told him when she taught him the magic. It was what she believed, and he had no reason to doubt her. Traces of the black designs that had been scratched into the bones still remained, but they were worn smooth at the ends from long use. He hung it around his neck, selected six empty phials, and stood them on the table. He began with the plain box under the table; opening it, he scooped up six items at random: a broken penknife, a carved walnut, a clay marble, a piece of red glass, and two tiny braids of hair. Squinting, he examined the faint glowing threads that emanated from them-no more than a few on any of them. A man could starve to death on such fare, if there weren’t so much of it to be had. These required the full curing time to get the good out of them. He placed each one in an empty phial, then pulled the carefully labeled chain Duke Laneus had given him tonight from his pocket and contemplated it, sorely tempted after the insulting supper in the kitchen.

  With a sigh he squatted down and unlocked the larger, fancier casket under the table, adding the chain to the small collection of fine jewelry it contained. He held his hand over it

  for a moment, and a shiver went through him at the power there. It took considerable will to lock the box again and push it back under the table. What mischief he could make with these! From what he’d gleaned from his eavesdropping, Reltheus and Kyrin were part of a plot against Princess Klia, one opposed by Duke Laneus and his friends. And were Laneus and the others really planning to kill the queen herself, as well as the princess royal? Another possessive frown creased his brow at the thought.

  Rhiminee was certainly one of the more interesting places he’d been. He hadn’t seen this much intrigue since the time he and Brader had spent in Zengat. It could be quite lucrative, if you were cagey and backed the right side.

  He wasn’t ready for the so-called plague to manifest itself in the better wards just yet. Not that it had to, of course. The stronger the life force on an object, the less seasoning it took to create the elixir, especially if you were willing to sacrifice some potency for the sake of timing. But timing of another sort had to be considered, as well. It wouldn’t do for their host to die the very night Atre had been with him. That sort of thing could get a man in trouble, as Brader would have been happy to point out if he knew Atre was having these kinds of thoughts again. As if Atre hadn’t learned a thing or two over the years!

  Resisting temptation, he set about preparing the poorer items, which needed days to leach out their meager power. He filled the phials from the waterskin and corked them. Then he lit the thick tallow candle on the table from the lantern and used it to melt dark green sealing wax over the top of each bottle, coating the cork and the neck. When they were cool he incised the proper markings with a copper stylus that had been his mother’s-all but one symbol, the central one. Holding a hand over each bottle in turn, he spoke the words of power. Faint light glowed inside each one for an instant as each soul was drawn in. Six more little sleepers in the slums.

  He placed the phials carefully into the rack and locked the necklace aw
ay. Then he selected a matured elixir from the rack; he could just make out a crude, blue-glazed bead

  through the milky liquid. Such beads were supposed to ward off evil, he’d been told. He smiled as he broke the seal and swallowed the contents, careful to leave the bead in the bottle. The elixir tingled across his tongue and down his throat, leaving a bitter, metallic aftertaste like blood in his mouth. The little life force swirled through him, and he sighed at the sensation.

  It wasn’t enough.

  He drank another, and another, then stopped himself with an effort, hands shaking. Not enough.

  Teeth clenched, he selected a dozen of the matured elixirs and slid them into the padded pigeonholes in the leather box, then replaced everything as it had been and took his leave, locking the door carefully after him.

  CHAPTER 19. Picnics and Partisans

  ALEC, at least, must have made a good impression on the princess. A few days after the shooting match, he and Seregil were invited shooting again, and then to a picnic on one of the islands in the harbor. In the invitation, the princess reminded Alec to bring his bow.

  It was hardly an intimate affair. Princess Aralain and her three younger daughters came along, as well as Duke Reltheus, Alaya and five young ladies-in-waiting, and a score of courtiers, most of whom Seregil recognized from the archery contests. Selin had not been included, he noticed.

  There were also a host of servants in charge of the hampers and cushions, minstrels, and a bodyguard of twenty. Elani took Reltheus’s arm to ascend the gangplank of the sleek caravel moored at the royal quay. She was dressed in a blue summer dress today, but her shoes were sturdy. She wore no jewels, and her fair hair was caught back in a brightly colored ribbon under her broad-brimmed sun hat.

  The minstrels struck up a lively tune as they set sail under a clear blue morning sky and a few of the guests danced on the deck. Elani and her women remained at the rail with Reltheus, and she beckoned for Seregil and Alec to join them.

  “My lords, welcome again,” she said, offering her hand. “My uncle mentioned to me that you are a gifted harpist and a fine singer, Lord Seregil. I hope you will contribute to the entertainment.”

  “I am, as always, yours to command, Highness,” Seregil said with a bow. “And Alec here has a very pleasing voice.”

  Elani smiled at Alec. “You have many skills, it seems.”

  “A few, Highness,” Alec replied.

  When the minstrels paused in their playing Seregil borrowed a harp and he and Alec found themselves the center of attention for some time, singing love songs and war ballads. Seregil even managed a few of the songs he’d heard in the theater, which won him much applause.

  “Lords Seregil and Alec are patrons of that new company in Gannet Lane,” Reltheus generously informed the party.

  “Indeed?” sniffed Count Tolin, the young blond man Alec had seen at Kyrin’s. “I prefer the Tirari myself.”

  “Then you are denying yourself a great pleasure,” Reltheus told him. “Their lead actor is a marvel.”

  “He entertained at my salon, Tolin,” added Alaya. “I’ve since been to his theater and really, it’s as good as anything I’ve seen in the Street of Lights. The plays are quite original.”

  Tolin bowed to them. “Perhaps I shall try it one night, then.” But he sounded less than enthusiastic.

  The ship skimmed across the harbor to a secluded cove on the seaward side of a wooded island just beyond the outer moles. Sailors rowed them ashore and Elani led the company up to a pretty wooden pavilion that stood in a clearing just above the shingle. Its ornately carved posts and railings were weathered silver with age and decked with flower garlands. While the servants prepared the midday meal and the older courtiers settled down to gamble and gossip, Elani, her ladies and sisters, and the younger nobles wandered the trails that wound through the woods to various vantage points overlooking the sea.

  Seregil found himself revising his view of Elani. She’d been bored at Alaya’s salon until the talk had turned to hunting and bows, and had been cheerful and friendly at the lists. This island was clearly a special place for her, and she seemed much more her age as she held her youngest sister, Princess Leali, by the hand and led the party to gulls’ nests that covered the ground on the leeward side to see the fuzzy grey-and-white chicks, and on to a shadowed glade where

  rare pink and white saphis flowers bloomed, the frilled, slipper-shaped blossoms swaying gently on their long stalks. There was a pond, as well, stocked with huge, precious gold-and-white-striped fish that rose greedily to eat the crumbs the girls scattered for them.

  Duke Reltheus occupied a favored place at her side. He made her laugh, and she occasionally took his arm. Seregil and Alec, however, found themselves at the back of the pack among the lesser courtiers.

  “Her Highness certainly seems fond of the duke,” Alec remarked to Earl Stenmir.

  “She’s fonder of the father than the son, they say,” Tolin murmured, keeping his voice down. Then, without much warmth, “And you seem to have made quite an impression in a very short time, Lord Alec.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Oh, but you have. Wouldn’t you say so, Lord Seregil?” Stenmir insisted with a somewhat nasty grin.

  “They’re both archers,” Seregil said with a shrug.

  Neither answer seemed to satisfy the count. “Of course, you’re some relation to the princess, aren’t you, Lord Seregil? Odd that we haven’t seen more of you at court. Is it true that you’re in trade?”

  “I amuse myself with a few investments now and then,” Seregil replied with an easy smile, not rising to the bait of what was clearly intended as an insult.

  “And with Lord Alec,” a young countess said with a laugh.

  “A lucky thing for our friend Reltheus,” Duke Solis, a friendlier sort, noted, nudging Alec good-naturedly with his elbow. “He wouldn’t welcome any competition for a certain person’s hand.” He shot a meaningful look in Reltheus’s direction that no one missed.

  “Do you think his hopes are well founded?” asked Seregil.

  “I hear the son has caught the queen’s eye in the field,” Earl Stenmir sniffed. “And the princess royal is said to have been taken with Danos during a hunt. The young man is pleasant enough, but the father is quite the social climber, don’t you think?”

  “I am honored to call the duke my friend,” Seregil replied

  stiffly, recognizing a gossip trap. “I will thank you to keep such insulting opinions to yourself, my lord.”

  Stenmir was clearly taken aback, given Seregil’s lower social rank. “I was merely making an observation.” With that he walked quickly to the head of the line and struck up a conversation with a marquis. The others who’d been walking with them moved away, as well, and that was the end of conversation for a while.

  “You drew a little blood there,” Alec whispered in Aurenfaie.

  Seregil chuckled. “At least it drove them off,” he replied in the same. “Tiresome lot. But I think we’ve both made a name for ourselves among them.” He nodded at Tolin, now walking with Elani. Reltheus had fallen back and was laughing with a portly duke. “I expect a bit of bad-mouthing is going on-in the most veiled way, of course. ‘I had no idea Lord Seregil was in trade.’ ‘My, but that lover of his is very young, don’t you think?’ ‘I’m surprised the queen hasn’t kept him at court. Isn’t that interesting?’ ”

  Alec smothered a laugh. “You don’t think the princess is really interested in me, do you?”

  “She’s a young girl, tali, surrounded by women and old men. I expect any handsome young fellow would at least catch her eye.” He slipped his arm through Alec’s and kissed him on the cheek for the benefit of those stealing glances back at them and added in Skalan, “Not that I’m in any way discounting your natural charms.”

  The air in Dyer’s Street reeked of various pigments and their fixatives, mingled with the heavy odor of wet wool. Thero held up the hem of his blue robe as his horse splashed
through a red puddle. The gutters here often overflowed, filling the street with swirling pools and rivulets of color-stained water and making islands of the cobblestones. A narrow boardwalk ran down each side of the street, for the benefit of those who had to pass through on foot.

  Without an apprentice to send on errands, Thero did his own shopping. He happened to enjoy it, and welcomed the opportunity to get out of the Oreska House, something he

  didn’t do often enough these days, as Seregil most annoyingly insisted on pointing out whenever he saw him. Alec wasn’t much better, always after him to come to the gambling houses with them, or the theater. These days the younger man was constantly talking about some actor he admired, the one Thero had missed meeting at his party. Thero had no interest in gambling, and little time for pointless pleasures.

  Turning the corner, he left the puddles behind for the equally stained cobblestones of Painted Lane, the pigment dealers’ street. It was late morning and the street was crowded. There were dozens of shops here catering to artists, ink makers, mixers of cosmetics, and the occasional wizard. Thero needed a particular shade of purple ink for a spell and he knew just the shop to find the necessary dried thorn berries and another for the finest ink-making gums.

  He was coming out of Master Syin’s shop with the berries when a strange, crawling sensation ran up his spine. It was familiar, though it took him a moment to place it; he’d felt a hint of it at Alec’s birthday party. He looked around, trying to decide where in the crowd it was coming from. A tall, red-haired man with several large parcels under his arms caught the wizard’s eye; Thero only had a glimpse of a long, stern face and broad shoulders as the man wended his way deeper into the passing crowd. Leaving his horse tethered by Syin’s shop, the wizard shouldered his way through the crowd, stepping on the occasional foot in his haste to catch up to the man, but to no avail. By the time the crowed spilled out into the Sea Market, the fellow was nowhere to be seen. Thero could have cast a wizard eye, but it was difficult to concentrate in the commotion of the marketplace and the strange feeling was gone, leaving no trace to follow. He walked awhile in the direction he thought the man might have gone, but found no sign of him. Giving up, he went back to his shopping and soon forgot about it.