“So it would seem. Yet the first Kepi saw of them was up here.” Seregil absently tapped his pewter spoon on the edge
of his untouched soup bowl. “We’ll have to set someone to watch at the Yellow Eel Street temple. If that little traitor who led us into that ambush really did make a trade, she might just show up there.”
“I’d like to have had a word with that old man, too. I’d really like to know how he gave me the slip like that.”
“So, what’s the job, exactly?” Micum asked as they settled over wine.
Seregil smiled at the familiar glint in his old friend’s eyes. Micum grew more keen still as Seregil and Alec explained the complicated tangle of problems with the ravens and the noble cabals.
“So it’s Alec and me for the Ring, then?”
“I’ll go in with you sometimes, too, but it will always be with one of us. And only during the day,” said Seregil. “Micum, I’d like you to stay out of sight here when you’re not on the job. Alec and I will have to be seen at Wheel Street and around town.”
Micum took out his pipe and tobacco pouch and set about preparing for a smoke. “That suits me fine.”
The rainy weather continued for the next few days. Seregil and Alec were summoned once to the Palace to attend Elani, and spent the following night burgling Kyrin for fresh evidence. There was more gold in Kyrin’s secret room, but no new coded messages. Perhaps Klia had rooted that out, at least for now.
They set Kepi to watch at the Sea Market temple, in case the boy who’d traded with the old man or anyone else with the sleeping death turned up.
With the threat of quarantine hanging over their heads, Alec and Micum made their forays into the Ring slum. Alec wore his peasant-woman garb and Micum looked suitably disreputable in a dirty soldier’s coat and an eye patch. He went armed and they were mostly left alone. Though they found more people, mostly children, who claimed to have traded with a raven person, almost none of the descriptions matched. One had dealt with the old woman with the strange belt adornments, but no one had seen the old man. There was
talk of a young woman in a ragged cloak, and the lame young man on a crutch, but none of the people they questioned were able to give much more of a description than that. No one remembered a tall swordsman hanging about.
Kepi soon turned up at Wheel Street again with news of a boy who fit the description of the one Alec had gotten the yellow crystal from. He’d been brought into the Yellow Eel Street temple, along with many others.
“The merchants in the square are up in arms about it,” Kepi told them while having his customary meal in the kitchen under the fond eye of the cook. “They’re hollerin’ for quarantine louder every day ’cause folk are staying away from the merchants nearest there.”
“Then we’d better hurry,” said Seregil.
Alec and Seregil rode to the temple and found it ringed with angry people shouting at the priests and trembling acolytes.
“You know we can’t turn away the sick,” the head priest cried. “Maker’s Mercy, good people, let them at least die in peace.”
They shouldered their way through the crowd and into the temple. Once inside, Alec shook his head, looking at all the sightless sleepers lined up against the walls. The boy he’d gotten the stone from lay on a pallet near the door.
Alec hunted out the drysian in charge. “Could I borrow two of your acolytes, please, Brother? I need to send some messages.”
The two boys were quickly sent off, one with a message for Valerius, the other for Thero.
While they waited he and Seregil made use of their time examining the stricken people, looking for marks of any sort, or anything else out of the ordinary.
“Here’s something,” said Alec, kneeling by one of the little girls. “Look, someone’s cut a lock of her hair in the back. I saw that on another of the little ones over there, too.” He turned to the drysian woman. “Have you noticed that with any of the others who’ve come through here?”
“No. But we deal in illness, not hair.”
“Alec, look!” Seregil pointed to a child on the far side of the room.
It was the little golden-haired washerwoman’s daughter and her mother. The child still lived.
“That’s a few days longer than we expected,” Alec pointed out hopefully.
“We can’t take anything for granted,” Seregil warned.
The wizard and drysian arrived within the hour. The crowd had swelled but parted respectfully for Valerius.
Thero’s robe was rumpled and he looked rather hollow-eyed. He took in the room at a glance. “Your messenger told us a bit about what’s going on, but this? Look at all the little ones!”
“I’ve been talking with the priests,” said Seregil. “At least half of them were seen making trades with the ravens. I think this may be magic, rather than a simple illness. Or magic that causes the illness, at least.”
Thero nodded. “I’ll see what I can discover.”
The wizard moved among the sick, touching them, brushing their minds-or trying to. There seemed to be no mind to touch. The bodies were mere empty, breathing husks. All the same, there was the faintest hint of something else, something that made him vaguely uncomfortable, like a bad smell. He took his time at it, and when he finished he washed his hands.
“Did you find anything?” asked Valerius.
“I’m not sure. It’s not like anything has been laid on them, but rather something taken away, leaving just the faintest echo in its wake.”
“I sensed something similar,” Valerius told him.
“Taken.” Alec touched a little girl’s hand. “Like their khi?”
“Their soul, you mean?” Valerius shook his head. “They’d be dead if that were the case.”
“Only if the soul is the same thing as life,” said Thero. “Philosophers have been debating that for centuries.” He tapped his chin, thinking. “There is one last thing I’d like to
try, though. Help me move this older boy over to that clear place by the wall.”
Seregil and Alec carried the boy to the spot he’d indicated and then stood back with Valerius as Thero took out his chalk and began drawing an elaborate pattern of symbols around the stricken one. When he was done there was a solid circle around the boy, with room enough for Thero to sit inside with him on the floor.
He rested his hands on his knees, closed his eyes, and sat in concentration for over an hour before giving up. At last he stood up, scuffed the chalk circle, and walked over to where Alec and the others were waiting.
“Anything?” asked Seregil.
“Just a headache.”
“Didn’t you sense any magic?” Valerius asked impatiently.
“No, nothing that I recognize as such.”
“Could it be some form of necromancy?” Alec suggested.
Thero gave him an affronted look. “I’m well versed in the various arts, Alec, as you very well know. That sort of magic always leaves traces and marks. If there is any magic to this, it’s too clean for necromancy. Nysander’s friend Teleus would have been the man to talk to about this, but he was killed when the Plenimarans attacked the Oreska House. He was the best versed in killing magic of any of us.”
“What about his successor, Miya?” asked Valerius.
“I think her studies have taken her in another direction, but she has all of her master’s books. I’ll speak with her.”
As they stepped outside they were met by a group of Scavengers being overseen by a score of the City Watch.
“What are you doing?” the temple drysian exclaimed in alarm as two Scavengers shouldered past him.
“Vicegerent’s orders,” the bluecoat captain informed him, handing him a scroll with the prince’s seal of office dangling from it. “As of now, this part of the Ring is being sealed off. All the sick ones you have there must go back inside.”
Looking past him, Alec saw a wagon loaded with boards and rocks, no doubt to build the barrier.
“But you can’t just toss them in there!
” the temple drysian cried. “What will become of them?”
“They’ll be under your care, won’t they?” said Valerius.
The man looked at him with horror. “You expect us to go in there?”
“The Maker’s servants go where the need is greatest. They are your charges and you will attend to them. You, Captain!” He turned to the man in charge of the bluecoats. “Give my priests time to gather all they need and see that the sick are moved gently to some sheltered place. I won’t have you doing murder in the prince’s name and if you do, he’ll hear about it from me, understand?”
“Of course, Brother Valerius!” the captain assured him, cowed as most were by the sheer force of the imposing drysian’s will and presence.
Leaving Valerius to oversee the transfer, Alec drew Thero aside. “So what do you think?”
“I think that if this is magic, then a quarantine isn’t going to solve the problem,” the wizard replied. He paused, frowning. “I wonder if we have this backward?”
“How so?” asked Alec.
“What if it isn’t what these raven folk take away? What if it’s what they leave behind that acts as some sort of telesm? If so, then you may have put yourself in danger, buying that stone the other day. The boy who bought it has already been struck down.”
“May have?” Alec asked, suddenly uneasy. He’d had bad experiences in the past with strange magics.
“It’s just a theory. Do you have it?”
Alec took it from his purse and handed it to the wizard.
“If that’s the case, though, then now you’re in danger, aren’t you?” asked Seregil.
“I can seal it up so that it can’t be used by anyone from a distance.”
“The little girl we found in the temple had only been given a sweetmeat,” Alec pointed out. “And she ate it, so there was nothing left to work magic through.”
“What you eat becomes a part of you, doesn’t it?”
“Just how certain are you that sealing the stone away will work?” asked Alec.
Thero shrugged. “Reasonably certain.” Then, lowering his voice, “Can you find your way into the quarantined areas and look for more of these raven folk of yours tonight? I really need some item from them.”
“We’re hosting Archduchess Alaya, Princess Elani, and her mother at the Golden Crane, to see the new tragedy. Reltheus and his wife are coming, as well. By the time we get out of that, the ravens will probably have gone to nest. But tomorrow we’ll look into it.”
“Ah, I see. Then would you mind if I accompanied you to the theater?” Thero asked, surprising them both.
“You want to go?” asked Seregil.
“I’d like to have a closer look at Reltheus, and also reestablish my acquaintance with the princess royal. I can discreetly ascertain whether magic is being worked on her by any conspirators, as well. This would be the most innocuous way to do it, given that I’m known to be your friend.” He paused and raised an eyebrow at them. “And perhaps you’ll stop hounding me about it, too.”
CHAPTER 34. A Light at the Theater
WHILE Thero had only come to the theater to meet Reltheus and Princess Elani, as he took his place with the others in the patrons’ box to await the royal arrivals, he had to admit he was impressed. The inside of the theater was beautifully done, with gilt, fine carvings, and an ornate proscenium.
“It is always a pleasure to meet a wizard of the Oreska House,” Reltheus said, extending his hand. “Allow me to present my wife, Duchess Palmani.”
The woman was very beautiful, and much younger than her husband. Her eyes shone as she took in Thero’s rich, silver-embroidered blue robes. “I do hope you’ll show us a bit of magic while we wait.”
“He’s not a performing bear, my dear,” the duke told her with an indulgent laugh.
“Thero doesn’t mind!” Seregil chimed in. “Do you, Thero? You do such pretty magics.”
“Of course not,” Thero replied, resisting the temptation to use a little magic to shove Seregil over the box railing. Looking around, he found a bowl of pears. One of them still had a few leaves clinging to the stem. He held it on his outstretched palm before the young duchess, drew his wand for effect, cast a shimmer of light for show, and turned the pear into a plump wooden rabbit with leaf-shaped ears. It was a simple permutation, transforming a pear to pear wood, but Palmani giggled like a little girl as she held it up for the others to see.
“I heard you were clever,” Reltheus said, and probably meant it as a compliment.
“You’ll like this play, I promise,” Alec said, sitting down beside Thero. “The main character is a wizard, and Atre carries it off well.”
Wine and plates of dainties were served as they waited. Thero nibbled a few and looked around, recognizing faces in the boxes around them.
“This company certainly attracts a fashionable crowd,” he remarked.
“Yes, and to think they were nothing more than street players in the spring,” said Reltheus.
“We have you two and Lady Kylith to thank for that,” Palmani said, then placed a hand on Seregil’s arm. “I’m sorry. Does the memory of her give you pain?”
“More pleasure than pain, my lady,” Seregil replied sadly. “By the Light, I miss her! That’s her chair you’re sitting in. No, no, don’t get up,” he added quickly when Palmani went to rise. “She’d be so pleased you’re here. She would have adored you.”
As the others conversed, Thero paid special attention to Reltheus. The man was a charmer, certainly, and his regard for Seregil and Alec appeared to be genuine. The wizard chanced brushing the man’s mind, but Reltheus was thinking only of his companions and the pleasure of being in the theater.
A few moments later there was a stir in the crowd near the theater doors. A herald in blue and white stepped in and announced loudly, “Her Highness, the Princess Royal, Elani, accompanied by His Highness and Vicegerent, Prince Korathan, and Archduchess Alaya.”
Everyone stood and bowed as the royal party made their way to Seregil’s box to join them.
“Your Highnesses, welcome!” Seregil said, bowing with the others.
“Thank you for your invitation,” Elani replied, kissing Palmani and Reltheus on both cheeks before taking her place in the central seat of honor, flanked by Alaya and her uncle. She was quite lovely tonight, glittering in crystal-spangled sea-green silk that brought out the royal green in her eyes and the sparkle of the diamond pins in her hair. “Mother is having
one of her headaches tonight, so I brought Uncle Korathan instead.”
“Delighted to see you, Your Highness,” Seregil said.
Korathan allowed himself a small smile. “My niece was most persuasive.”
“He hasn’t come to see these players once!” Elani told them.
“He was always pestering his mother to take him to the theater as a boy,” Alaya put in, giving the prince a fond look.
“There wasn’t a war on then, my dears,” Korathan replied.
To Thero’s surprise, Elani leaned forward and smiled at him. “I remember you! You came to Duke Reltheus’s hunt last winter. You’re the one who made the snow catamount for the children, and the golden diadem out of pine tips. I still have it.”
“I am deeply honored, Your Highness.”
“He just made this for me!” Palmani proudly showed off her rabbit.
“Allow me, Your Highness.” Thero picked another pear from the bowl and made one for the princess, this one sitting up on its haunches. Elani and the other women exclaimed over it like delighted children as he presented it to her.
As Elani admired it, Thero cast a brief spell, looking for any tinge of magic around her or the others. There were just a few excellent protections on Elani and Korathan, cast no doubt by the court wizard, but nothing malevolent.
Presently the house lights were snuffed and the play began. There was a brief prologue delivered by a beautiful dark-haired woman, then the heavy curtains opened to reveal a cleverly painted background
and set pieces that were someone’s idea of what a wizard’s workroom looked like. It was a bit overdone, but Thero refrained from saying so.
Presently the handsome Atre appeared in an approximation of Oreska robes and began declaiming his intention to capture the heart of some unwilling woman with magic. Why on earth had Alec assumed he’d like this play? It was an appalling misuse of power! He glanced over at Seregil, who was sitting to Alec’s right, and his friend gave him a maddeningly innocent grin.
Since he couldn’t very well leave, he poured himself a cup of wine and settled in to critique every error. But instead he found himself caught up in the story, which was far more complex than he’d expected, with very good costuming. He was actually enjoying himself when, at the beginning of the second act, a new actor came onstage. He was an imposing presence, very tall, with a long, stern face and red hair. It took Thero a moment to place him but he had an excellent memory for faces, even those he’d only glimpsed, and he certainly remembered that hair. This was the man from Painted Lane, the one on whom he’d thought he sensed magic.
“Who is that?” he whispered to Alec.
“Brader. He plays the second lead quite often. Good, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Thero murmured, gaze fixed on the actor. “Would it be possible for me to meet him after the play?”
“Yes, of course. We’re dining with them afterward.” Alec gave him a knowing grin. “I told you you’d like it, didn’t I? Though it’s usually Atre that catches people’s eye.”
“He’s quite remarkable. But I think I’ve seen the other one-Brader-before.”
“Really, where?”
“Are you two going to talk through the entire play?” Korathan hissed.
Alec gave the wizard a comical look of embarrassment and settled back in his chair. Thero had to content himself with watching the rest of the play, impatient to get a closer look at this Brader fellow. Gradually the plot recaptured his interest, and by the end of the play he was hoping he was wrong, impressed as he was with the troupe’s talent.
After the actors had taken their bows, Thero and his party waited in the box until the theater emptied, then went down to the stage area. When the actors came out to present themselves to Elani, Brader was not among them.
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