Traitor's Moon

by Lynn Flewelling

  A middle-aged man dressed in the frayed robes of an Orëska wizard elbowed his way through the press. His long hair was touched with grey, and he had a burn scar on his left cheek. Alec couldn’t recall the fellow’s name but remembered seeing him around the Orëska and at court.

  “Here’s help at last,” Seregil grunted.

  “Stop, you fools!” the wizard cried again. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s just a couple of ’faie spies,” the captain snapped.

  The wizard stared hard at Seregil and Alec, then rounded on the captain. “This man is Lord Seregil í Korit, a friend of the Royal Family and of the Orëska House! And this, if memory serves, is his ward, Sir Alec.”

  The captain threw Seregil a dubious look, then motioned her men back. “Yes, those are the names they gave.”

  Seregil rose and dusted himself off. “Thank you, Elutheus. I’m relieved to find one sane person aboard. What are they up to, slaughtering Aurënfaie out of hand?”

  “The queen’s orders, I’m afraid,” the wizard replied. “Captain Heria, I wish to question these men in my cabin. Please send down some food and drink. They look like they’ve had a hard time of it.”

  The wizard’s cabin was a cramped, dark little kennel belowdecks, but he soon made them comfortable, clearing the cluttered bunk and sending for the ship’s drysian to tend Alec’s leg. Slumped on a stool, Seregil allowed himself to relax a little. Elutheus was a decent fellow who’d been a friend of Nysander’s.

  “What other wizards are with the prince?” he asked, accepting a cup of wine gratefully as he watched the healer work.

  “Just the prince’s field wizard, Wydonis.”

  “Oh, yes, I remember him. One arm. A bit stuffy at banquets. He didn’t think much of Nysander’s entertainments.”

  “No, but he respected his abilities. He’s been given Nysander’s old tower since you left.”

  Seregil clenched his cup, fighting down the sudden lump that rose in his throat at the thought of those familiar rooms being occupied by anyone else. Looking up, he saw Alec watching him over the drysian’s shoulder, understanding in his blue eyes.

  “How did he wrangle that, I wonder?” Seregil asked, trying to make light of it.

  “He’s wizard to the vicegerent now,” said Elutheus.

  Seregil finished his wine and accepted more, impatient for the drysian to finish. When the man was gone, Seregil took out the Akhendi bracelet. “Can you seal this away from prying eyes without disturbing the magic it contains?”

  “Someone keeps using it to find us and we don’t want to be found, especially not here,” Alec put in. “Nysander used to seal things up in jars.”

  “Of course.” Elutheus rummaged in a small trunk and came up with a small clay bottle sealed with a cork. Placing the bracelet inside, he replaced the plug, secured it with a bit of string, and spoke a spell over it. Bluish light flickered around it for an instant. When it died away, he handed it to Seregil.

  “Not elegant, perhaps, but this should keep you safe until you open it again. Now then, what are you doing here?”

  “We’re here on Klia’s behalf,” Seregil replied, cautious again. “What was all that talk about spies?”

  Elutheus shook his head. “Phoria has been busy in her sister’s absence. Even before the queen died, Phoria was using the Iia’sidra’s inaction to stir up bad feeling against Aurënen, no doubt in preparation for taking what she needs by force. Hence Korathan’s presence here now. Plenimar is pressing hard on our eastern borders, and she’s grasping at straws.”

  Seregil shook his head. “I can understand her impatience, but to start a second war against a race that can fight you for centuries, and with magic—it’s madness! Where are her mother’s old advisers? Surely they’ve tried to talk her out of it?”

  “Phoria listens only to her generals and sycophants. Even Orëska wizards can find themselves open to charges of treason if they’re not careful. Lady Magyana has already been banished.”

  “Magyana? What for?” Seregil counterfeited surprise with his usual ease.

  Elutheus studied him for a moment. “It was she who sent word to you, was it not?”

  Chagrinned, Seregil said nothing.

  “That’s all right.” The wizard shrugged, smiling. “We keep the secrets that must be kept, those of us who watch.”

  Alec gave Seregil a startled look behind the wizard’s back, then made the sign for “Watcher?”

  Seregil stared at the wizard, trying to gauge the man’s expression, then said noncommittally, “What would you swear by?”

  “Heart, hands, and eyes.”

  Relief washed through Seregil. “You? I had no idea.”

  “I was only guessing about you,” the wizard replied with a wry smile. “There were always rumors, given your close association with Nysander. I must say, you’ve concealed yourself well all these years; you’ve been sorely missed at the gaming tables and pleasure houses since you disappeared this last time. Half of Rhíminee thinks you’re dead.”

  “They were almost right. Now, where’s Korathan? The message we carry is for his ears only.”

  “He should be catching us up very soon,” the wizard told them, conjuring up a message sphere. “My lord Korathan,” he said, speaking to the little point of light. “We have messengers aboard from your sister, bearing most urgent news.”

  “There,” he said, sending it on its way and rising to go. “Rest now, my friends, and don’t let the prince scare you. He’s not a bad fellow, so long as you’re direct with him.”

  Seregil chuckled. “I knew him in his younger days. He didn’t laugh much, but he was always good for a loan.”

  Elutheus shook his head. “Luck in the shadows, boys.”

  “And in the light, wizard,” Seregil replied.

  “Things are looking up,” Seregil remarked when the wizard had left them. “If we can get Korathan to Sarikali, we’ll go along with him. It’s as safe a ploy as I can think of, given the circumstances.”

  “Wait a minute,” Alec said, frowning. “You’re not thinking of going back?”

  “I have to, Alec.”

  “But how? You’ve broken every law they laid down for your return—leaving the city, carrying a weapon, not to mention the fact that you killed a few people during the ambush.”

  “So did you, as I recall.”

  “Yes, but I’m not the one Nazien í Hari and the entire Iia’sidra invoked teth’sag against.”

  Seregil shrugged. “There’s no other way.”

  “Horse shit, there isn’t! I’ll go. I’m just a stupid Skalan. They won’t go as hard on me.”

  “No, and they won’t listen to you, either.” Seregil pulled his stool closer and clasped Alec’s hand. “It’s not just about the poisonings for me anymore, or explaining Korathan’s sudden arrival.”

  “What then?”

  “Honor, Alec. I broke teth’sag and left Sarikali because circumstance required it. If we can convince Korathan to play things our way, act as if he’s come on Klia’s account, then our journey’s been worth the risk. But I need to finish that job properly. We have to clear Emiel and the Virésse. We have to find out which Akhendi were involved, and why. We might even get Phoria what she needs, whether she wants us to or not.”

  “And prove to them that you’re not the Exile who ran away?” Alec asked.

  “Yes. Because that’s all I’ll ever be in the minds of my kin forever, unless I go back and make things right.”

  “They could sentence you to death this time.”

  Seregil gave him a lopsided grin. “If they do, I’ll need your help to make another dazzling escape. But this way it’s my choice and, for once, I’m choosing honor. I need you to understand, talí.” He paused, thinking of that last strange dream and all the other visions he’d been given since his return. “It’s something the rhui’auros have been trying to tell me since we arrived.”

  “Honor, or atui?”

  “Atui,” Seregil adm
itted. “To act as a true Aurënfaie, whatever the consequences.”

  “You picked a hell of a time to start caring about that again.”

  “I always cared,” Seregil said softly.

  “All right then, we go back. How?”

  “We’ll surrender in Gedre and let them take us back.”

  “And if Riagil is in league with the Akhendi after all?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  Alec looked down at their clasped hands and rubbed his thumb over Seregil’s knuckles. “You really believe this will all work?”

  For a moment Seregil could almost feel the oppressive heat of the dhima, hear the clink of glass against glass. “Oh, yes. I have a gift for this sort of thing.”

  47

  KORATHAN

  Four warships appeared from the northeast at sunset, dark outlines against the fading sky. Watching them approach, Alec made out the banner of the Skalan royal house flying from the mast of the foremost ship. This vessel drew in alongside their own, and sailors swung weighted boarding lines across for them.

  “I haven’t done this in a while,” Seregil said, balancing precariously on the rail to grasp the rope.

  “I never have,” Alec muttered, forcing himself not to look down into the narrow, surging channel between the two ships. Following Seregil’s lead, he clutched the rope high, wrapped its loose end around the ankle of his good leg, and pushed bravely off, letting the motion of the other vessel help swing him across to the far deck. He even managed to land on his feet once he got there.

  Alec had seen Prince Korathan only from a distance a few times, but there was no mistaking the man. He was plain and fair-skinned like his sister and mother, and had the same sharp, appraising eyes. His black coat and close-fitting trousers were of military cut, but he wore the heavy gold chain of the vicegerent on his breast.

  A wizard stood with the prince. He was a portly, balding man, unremarkable except for the pinned-up sleeve of his ornate green robe.

  “Wydonis?” Alec whispered.

  Seregil nodded.

  “Seregil? Sakor’s Flame, man, what are you doing here?” the prince demanded, sounding none too pleased.

  Perhaps Seregil had overestimated the man’s fond memories of their younger days after all, Alec thought uneasily.

  Seregil managed a courtly bow despite his bruises and filthy clothes. “We’ve gone to considerable trouble to reach you, my lord. The news we bring must be shared in private.”

  Korathan raked them both with a bleak glare, then gestured curtly for them to follow.

  “Who’s this?” he asked, jerking a thumb at Alec as they entered his cabin.

  “Alec of Ivywell. A friend, my lord,” Seregil told him.

  “Ah, yes.” Korathan spared Alec a second glance. “I thought he was blond.”

  Seregil’s lips twitched the tiniest bit. “He usually is, my lord.”

  The cabin was as austere as the man who occupied it. Korathan seated himself at a small table and motioned curtly for Seregil to take the room’s only other chair. Alec settled on the lid of a sea chest.

  “All right, then, out with it,” said Korathan.

  “I know why you’re here,” Seregil told him, no less blunt. “I thought you were a wiser gambler than that. This is a fool’s errand.”

  The prince’s pale eyes narrowed. “Don’t presume too much on our past association.”

  “It’s for the sake of that, and my love for your family, that I’m here at all,” Seregil retorted. “This plan to capture Gedre can only end in disaster. And not just for Klia and the rest of us trapped there. For Skala as well. It’s insane! You must know that.”

  To Alec’s surprise, Korathan appeared to consider Seregil’s harsh words. “How do you know my mission?”

  “Your sister’s not the only one with spies in other camps,” Seregil replied.

  “Old Magyana, was it?”

  Seregil said nothing.

  Korathan tapped a finger on the tabletop. “All right then, we’ll sort that out later. Phoria has the backing of the generals in this venture. As vicegerent, I’m obligated to obey.”

  “Clearly, the generals don’t know what the Aurënfaie are capable of if they feel sufficiently threatened or insulted,” Seregil replied, earnest now. “They trusted your mother, and many of them still trust Klia. She’s a skillful diplomat, this half-sister of yours. She’d already swayed some of the opposing clans to our favor before news arrived of Idrilain’s death. Phoria is another matter, though. Within days of the news, the Virésse were spreading the story that she’d betrayed her own mother and collaborated with the Lerans. Ulan í Sathil has the documents to prove it. Did you know of this?”

  The prince eyed him levelly. “You seem to know quite a lot of things you shouldn’t. How does that happen?”

  “Do you recognize this?” Seregil held out his hand, showing him the ring.

  “So you have it!”

  “A gift from your mother, for certain services rendered. Alec and I both know the whole story, never mind how for the moment. Ulan í Sathil cast the whole business in the most damning light to a number of other khirnari—men and women he wanted to sway to his side. To the Aurënfaie, such an act demonstrates a shocking lack of honor. Even khirnari who were set to vote in Skala’s favor are having second thoughts. If you cap it with this ill-considered raid, the next Skalans they deal with will call you ancestor.”

  “It’s suicide, my lord,” Alec added, tired of being ignored. “You’ll get us all killed and accomplish nothing.”

  Korathan threw him an annoyed look. “I have my orders—”

  “Orders be damned!” Seregil said. “You must have advised her against this?”

  “She’s queen now, Seregil.” Korathan frowned down at his folded hands. “You know Phoria; you’re either her ally or her enemy. There’s no middle ground. That goes for me as much as anyone else.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but I believe we can offer you a way out with honor served on all sides,” Seregil told him.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Play the injured party and put honor on your side. Is Phoria aware that Klia and Torsin were poisoned by someone in Sarikali?”

  “No, by the Flame! They’re dead?”

  “He is. Klia was hanging on when we left three nights ago, but she’s deathly ill. You can use this, Korathan. When we left, no one else in Aurënen appeared to know that you’re coming. If they’ve learned of it since, then we can argue that they had the purpose wrong. Sail into Gedre tomorrow with all flags flying and send word announcing that you’ve come seeking justice against the murderers. Play injured honor to the hilt and demand entrance to Sarikali.”

  “Who are these assassins?” asked Korathan. “Surely the Iia’sidra hasn’t brushed such an act off lightly?”

  “No, my lord, they haven’t.”

  With Alec’s assistance, Seregil explained the events of the past few days. They showed him the Akhendi sen’gai they’d found, and the bottle containing the bracelet. By the time they were finished, Korathan was staring at Seregil again.

  “So you’re not the wastrel you pretend to be. I wonder now if you ever were.”

  Seregil had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Anything I have done, my lord, I’ve done for the good of Skala—though there are few enough left who can vouch for my good character, and fewer still whom you have reason to trust. Your mother knew of some of my efforts on her behalf, as this ring attests. So did Nysander. If you have a truth knower among your wizards, Alec and I will happily submit ourselves to the test.”

  “A brave claim, Lord Seregil, but you always were a daring gambler,” Korathan said with a sly smile. Raising his voice, he called out, “Doriska, what do you say to that?”

  A side door opened and a woman in Orëska robes came in. “They speak the truth, my prince.”

  Korathan raised an eyebrow at them. “And a good thing, too. You’ve brought yourself close to a charge of
treason just by coming here.”

  “Nothing could be further from our minds, my lord. Your mother sent me along to advise Klia on Aurënfaie customs. Let me do the same for you.

  “Honor and family are everything here. You’re well within your rights to land and demand Klia’s return. If we play our cards right, I may even be able to salvage something of her mission here. But be warned; you’ll accomplish nothing by force. If anyone guesses that you’ve come with an attacking force, your ships will be in flames before you sight land. So you see, we may well be saving your life, as well.”

  “So you mean to negotiate on my behalf, do you?”

  “In Gedre, at least. I think Riagil’s a man we can trust. He may be able to get you admitted to Sarikali, but he doesn’t have the power you need to deal with the Iia’sidra, and no one is going to listen to me, after what I’ve done. You’ll need Adzriel for that.”

  “I can damn well speak for myself,” Korathan growled. “I’m the Vicegerent of Skala, and blood kin to the woman they tried to murder.”

  “Without a claim to Bôkthersan kinship, none of that will matter,” Seregil told him. “That blood tie is your trump card, my lord, and Klia’s. Let Adzriel help you use it to your best advantage. Of course, they may not allow you in at all. Whatever happens, though, Alec and I have to get to Sarikali and present the evidence we’ve found against Akhendi.”

  “They’ll listen to you, but not to me?” asked Korathan. “Is this another of your risky gambles?”

  “Yes, my lord, it is,” Alec interjected. “He could face a death sentence by going back. If you still have any doubts as to our loyalties—”

  Seregil cut him short with a warning look. “I think who our evidence clears and who it implicates will be proof enough of our good faith, my lord.”

  Korathan gave Alec another of those dismissive glances, making it clear he considered him little more than a servant, and one who would do well to hold his tongue. “I know of the terms of your return, Seregil, and what it meant to defy them. It strikes me as quite a sacrifice for a man to make for a country he abandoned two years ago, and for a queen he clearly does not trust.”