Cascet of souls n-6

by Lynn Flewelling

  “I suppose so.”

  Seregil went to the desk, took out a piece of charcoal he kept for the purpose, and scrawled Yes in 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.

  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.