Traitor's Moon

by Lynn Flewelling

  By nightfall they reached the forested foothills of Akhendi and made camp in a clearing there. The grass was soft and the air sweet, but he spent the night tossing through feverish dreams and woke too stiff to rise without help.

  “You should eat something,” Alec advised, bringing him another dose of Riagil’s infusion.

  Seregil shook his head but accepted a mug of tea laced with some strong spirit Alec had scrounged up among the soldiers. With help, he clambered back into the saddle and waited miserably for the order to move on.

  “Do you feel any better today?” Korathan inquired, walking his horse past.

  Seregil managed a grin. “No, my lord, but I don’t feel any worse either.”

  Korathan gave him an approving nod. “Good. It wouldn’t do to leave you behind.”

  Alec grew increasingly watchful as they entered the more populated part of Akhendi. Whenever they stopped for water or news, he made certain that they were safely surrounded by uniformed Skalans. He also kept his ears open and learned that Amali had gone home after he and Seregil had escaped. Rhaish was still in Sarikali.

  “What else can he do?” Seregil mumbled, hunched miserably in the saddle. “Either he’s innocent and has no reason to run, or doesn’t want to look guilty.”

  They reached the valley late in the day and found a cadre of Silmai lookouts waiting for them at the bridge. Iäanil í Khormai greeted Korathan in the Iia’sidra’s name, then sent runners ahead to announce their arrival.

  “A better welcome than Klia got,” Seregil remarked, sounding more alert as he took his reins back from Alec. The swelling in his arm was already subsiding, though the skin was still discolored.

  At the outskirts of the city they found a large crowd waiting to greet them. Foremost among them were nine white-clad members of the Iia’sidra. The khirnari of Virésse and Haman were not with them.

  “Rhaish?” Seregil asked softly, craning his neck to see past a tall Skalan riding just in front of him.

  “There,” Alec said, spotting the Akhendi standing next to Adzriel and old Brythir.

  “Good. Maybe he hasn’t tumbled yet.”

  “Ulan and Nazien aren’t here.”

  “That would hardly be tactful, now would it?”

  The Silmai khirnari greeted Korathan, presenting him with a heavy golden torque. “I regret that such a circumstance brings you here.”

  “Or that we should meet for such a reason, my kinsman,” said Adzriel, introducing herself.

  “When you have rested and refreshed yourself, the Iia’sidra will hear your petition,” Brythir went on. “Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

  “I’d prefer to settle the matter tonight,” Korathan replied brusquely. “I will visit my sister first to learn her condition.”

  Alec peered out from beneath the edge of his hood, watching the faces of the various Iia’sidra members. Many were clearly offended at such haste, but no one was in a position to argue. Korathan was the aggrieved party and was within his rights to demand an assembly.

  “Come, I’ll take you to her,” Adzriel said, stepping in graciously. “My sister Mydri is with her now, or she would have been here to greet you.”

  Säaban brought her a horse, and together they proceeded through the familiar streets.

  Alec had never expected to enter this strange place again, or to feel the silvery play of its ancient magic across his skin. In spite of his underlying anxiety, he savored the moment. As if in response, he caught the rich, unmistakable scent of the Bash’wai and whispered his thanks.

  “Look there,” Seregil whispered.

  Several rhui’auros stood beside the street, watching the newcomers pass. As they came abreast of them, one of the rhui’auros raised a hand at him in salute.

  “They know!” Alec hissed.

  “It’s all right,” Seregil replied quietly.

  At the outskirts of Bôkthersa tupa they were met by a crowd of well-wishers waiting to greet the prince. He acknowledged them with thinly masked impatience and pressed on.

  Braknil’s decuria were ranked at attention on the front stairs of the guest house. At the bottom Beka stood next to Thero, looking none the worse for her journey.

  “Thank the Maker!” Alec exclaimed softly, feeling a weight lifted from his heart.

  “Looks like she got back in one piece after all,” whispered Seregil. “But where’s Nyal? I hope she didn’t kill him on sight.”

  Beka went down on one knee in front of Korathan as he dismounted. “Captain Beka Cavish, my lord.”

  “My sister mentions you often in her field reports. Captain,” Korathan replied, less curt with her than he had been with the Iia’sidra. “It seems her regard for you is well founded.”

  Beka rose and saluted.

  “And in you as well, young wizard,” he added, turning to Thero. “You were apprenticed to old Nysander before Magyana, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, Vicegerent.”

  Alec thought he caught a gleam of alarm in Thero’s eyes; an association with Magyana was unlikely to win anyone favor at court just now He was also struck, however, by how Korathan seemed to know a bit about anyone he was introduced to.

  “A most talented young man,” the wizard Wydonis remarked, coming forward with Elutheus to clasp hands with Thero. “Your master and I had our differences, but I see he managed not to ruin you.”

  Thero returned the greeting stiffly, then clasped hands more warmly with the younger wizard.

  Did Thero know who all the Watchers were? wondered Alec.

  He and Seregil followed unremarked as Beka led Korathan to his sister’s chamber. The nobles and wizards crowded in, leaving the soldiers on guard in the corridor. As soon as Klia’s door was safely shut, Alec drew Beka into Thero’s room across the corridor and latched the door shut behind them.

  “What is this?” she demanded sharply, pulling away from Seregil.

  “Don’t you know us, Captain?” he asked as he and Seregil pushed back their hoods.

  “By the Flame!” She pulled back to stare at them both. “What are you doing back here?”

  “I’ll explain later,” said Seregil. “Did Nyal find you again?”

  “Again?” Her smile died, and Alec knew at once that something was amiss. “Then you did see him?”

  “See him? He saved our lives!” said Alec.

  “He told me—oh, hell.” She sank down on the edge of Thero’s bed and pressed a hand over her eyes. “He claimed he was trying to help us, that he let you go. But he had blood on his clothes.”

  “Didn’t you notice me limping?” Alec asked. “I took an arrow through the leg. Where is he? You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

  “No.” It was almost a groan. “He brought me back yesterday. But—I still thought he’d betrayed us. Even after he got me away from the Akhendi—”

  Seregil’s eyes narrowed. “You had a run-in with the Akhendi, too?”

  Beka nodded. “Among others. The men Nyal left me with got jumped that same day by a bunch of freebooters. I got away from them and took off into the woods. Later, I met some Akhendi swordsmen on the road and they attacked me. Nyal helped me get away.”

  “Akhendi riders attacked you openly?” Seregil asked again.

  Beka nodded. “Rhaish í Arlisandin is furious.”

  “Is he?” said Seregil. “Where’s Nyal now? I need to speak with him.”

  “With the Ra’basi, I suppose. I told him to keep his distance. He knows something, Seregil. I saw it in his eyes when I asked about the Akhendi who attacked me.”

  Seregil gathered her into an awkward, one-armed hug and held her tight for a moment. “We’ll sort it out soon,” he promised. “I’m just glad to see you safe!”

  Beka shrugged. “What did you expect?”

  “Has Klia said anything about who attacked her?” asked Alec.

  “She can’t speak yet, but she’s more herself today. She still refuses to demand vengeance against the Haman, though, or anyone else.”

  S
eregil sighed. “That’s just as well. I think we’ve discovered our poisoner. Come, I want to speak to Klia before the others wear her out.”

  Korathan sat next to his sister’s bed. On the far side, Mydri bent over Klia’s damaged hand, changing dressings.

  “You’re back sooner than I expected, Haba!” Mydri exclaimed, glancing up as he came in. “Should I be glad?”

  “It was my own choosing,” Seregil replied, approaching the bed.

  Klia greeted him with a rueful little smile. She lay propped up against a pile of cushions, dressed in a loose blue gown. Her face was still deathly pale, the skin too slack, but her eyes were bright and alert.

  When Mydri removed the last of the bandages, however, Seregil’s stomach did a slow lurch.

  “Maker’s Mercy!” Alec whispered, echoing his own dismay.

  Klia’s first and middle fingers were gone. Mydri had cut away flesh and bone at an angle, from the knuckle of the ring finger to the base of the thumb. The raw edges were sewn together with heavy black silk, and although the flesh was still swollen and red, it appeared to be healing clean. The hand itself, once strong and slender, now looked like a splayed bird’s claw.

  “Those white patches spread and turned to dry gangrene, just as Nyal said they would,” Mydri explained, applying a pungent unguent to the incision. “It would have killed her in time. We were lucky, only having to do it once. I’m afraid she won’t draw a bow again, though.”

  Seregil looked up to find Klia watching him with mute resignation.

  “You only need one hand to wield a sword,” Seregil told her. She gave him a wink.

  “I’ve explained something of what you two did for her and for Skala,” said Korathan. “I’ll leave the rest of it to you.”

  He exchanged a look with Mydri and she withdrew.

  “Thank you, my lord.” With Alec’s help, Seregil explained what had happened once they’d parted from Beka, showing Klia the Akhendi sen’gai and the sealed bottle. Tears glittered in her eyes as they outlined their suspicions against the khirnari and his wife.

  Betrayed again, Seregil thought sadly.

  “I can’t open the bottle just yet, as I don’t want to give Rhaish any warning. Before I go to the Iia’sidra, I need you to think, Klia. Did the charm Amali gave you have any marks or cracks in the wood?”

  Klia slowly shook her head.

  “All right. Now then, did the Haman, Emiel, attack you during the hunt?”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “She remembers little of that day,” Thero told him. “She was quite sick by then.”

  “That night at the Virésse banquet, do you recall feeling anything prick your hand?” Seregil asked her. “No? Any other time? Do you know when you might have been poisoned?”

  Again no.

  “Nyal said the snake’s bite is painless,” Alec reminded him. “The poison must deaden feeling. And the barb on the ring is tiny.”

  “The ring! Thero, were you able to learn anything more from it?”

  “No. Whoever used it masked it well,” the wizard replied.

  “Just like the charm,” Seregil mused, “And yet they were able to preserve the memory of Emiel in it, and turn it white again somehow without disturbing that memory.”

  “We were just discussing that,” said Thero, who’d evidently warmed a bit toward the older wizard. “According to Wydonis, who is much more adept than I at this sort of thing, it’s possible to mask the essence of a person, as has evidently been done with the ring. But it’s virtually impossible, short of necromancy, to falsely imbue that essence.”

  Wydonis nodded. “Whoever had Alec’s charm, they were careful only to mask its appearance, leaving Emiel’s essence to be found when it changed again,” Wydonis explained. “I grant you, it’s difficult.”

  “But what made it turn black again, if Emiel didn’t attack her?” asked Alec.

  “Perhaps merely his proximity,” the older wizard said. “As Thero has speculated, these are the doings of someone with greater than normal ability.”

  Thero passed the ring to the elder wizard. “Perhaps you could divine more than I have from this. We can’t afford to miss anything.”

  Wydonis took the steel ring on his palm, breathed on it, then closed his fist around it. After a moment’s concentration, he nodded slowly. “As you say, it reveals nothing of the murderer. However, I can tell you something—it was made in Plenimar, as you rightly suspected. At Riga, I think, by a one-legged smith who slakes his work in goat’s urine. The ring was used for a time by a woman named—” He paused, brow furrowed. “She is of the house of Ashnazai, I believe. She used it to murder six people: four men, a woman, and an infant girl—all of them kin to the current Overlord—and then herself. More recently, it was used to kill several calves. It has something of Princess Klia’s essence in it, too—blood perhaps—and Torsin’s.” He tried one last time, then raised an eyebrow at Seregil. “I also sense a fish of some sort, but whoever used the ring to poison the princess has left no trace.”

  “Could a Virésse or Haman do that?” Thero asked Seregil.

  “The Virésse, perhaps, but probably not a Haman. Their gifts don’t usually run in that vein. I think it’s time we had a chat with Nyal. I’ll ask Adzriel to have someone bring him to her house discreetly. We don’t want to attract attention.”

  Korathan shot him a questioning look. “Who is this Nyal?”

  “A confidant of Lady Amali’s, my lord. These are delicate matters. It would be best if he thinks himself among friends,” Seregil explained. “I’ll have Adzriel, Alec, and Thero as witnesses. I think Klia will agree that this is best. My lady?”

  Klia nodded slightly.

  “Very well,” Korathan said grudgingly.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” Seregil promised. “Send word to the Iia’sidra that you’ll meet with them in two hours.” He paused. “Beka, do you want to be there for this?”

  She hesitated, flushing a bit behind her freckles. “With my lord’s permission?”

  “Be my eyes and ears, Captain,” said Korathan. “I’ll expect a full report.”

  With that settled, Seregil left the others and found Adzriel waiting just down the corridor.

  “I’ll send Kheeta to fetch Nyal,” she said. “I hope for Beka’s sake that he hasn’t betrayed you.”

  “So do I. But I suspect she’s right about him knowing more than he’s let on.”

  Adzriel went down the back stairs and he followed, motioning for Alec and the others to remain behind.

  At the lower landing, just off the kitchen, he laid a hand on her arm. A ray of late-afternoon sun slanted in through the open door beyond, striking golden glints in her dark hair even as it highlighted the circles beneath her eyes. She looked older suddenly, and careworn.

  “I have something for you,” he told her, pressing Corruth’s ring into her hand. “It belongs here. Who knows what the Iia’sidra will decide.…” He faltered, unable for once to find the right words to shape his meaning.

  The light struck the ring’s large red stone, scattering bright spangles across her palm like tears of blood.

  She looked down at it, then leaned forward and kissed him, first on the brow, then on the back of his bandaged hand. “I’m proud of you, my brother. Whatever judgment the Iia’sidra passes, you returned and I’m very proud of you.” She touched his wounded hand again. “May I see?”

  The teeth marks had scabbed over cleanly, each darkly ringed with blue lissik.

  “Make certain the Iia’sidra see this,” she advised. “Let them see that the dragons have claimed you. Whatever the khirnari may say, you will carry this mark of favor forever, here”—she touched a hand to his heart—“and here. Come over when you’re ready. I’ll see that Nyal is there.”

  Seregil kissed her cheek, then returned upstairs to find the others crowded around Klia’s bed.

  “She spoke!” Alec told him, making room. “She wants to go with us to the Iia’sidra.”
>
  “Is she strong enough?” Korathan asked, looking to Mydri.

  “If we wrap her well and keep her from any jolts,” his sister said. Looking down at Klia, she shook her head. “Is it important enough to justify the risk, my dear? You’re not strong enough to speak at any length.”

  “Must see me,” Klia whispered, her brow furrowed with effort.

  “She’s right,” Seregil said, giving the sick woman a smile. “Let them see just how badly the laws of hospitality have been breached.” Leaning down, he clasped her sound hand and added softly, “If you weren’t a princess, I’d have had you working with me long ago.”

  Her fingers tightened around his as she gave him a fleeting grin.

  52

  LONG EARS

  Adzriel opened her own sitting room for the interrogation. Seregil, Alec, Beka, and Thero were already in place when Kheeta ushered the Ra’basi in. Beka acknowledged him with a terse nod, remaining where she was in the embrasure of the window.

  Nyal gaped in amazement at the two returned fugitives. “So you were captured after all?”

  “No, we brought ourselves back,” Alec told him.

  “After all the trouble of getting away? Why?”

  “We found out a few more things along the way,” Seregil told him. “We need your help again. I’m hoping you’ll give it as freely as you have in the past.”

  “Whatever I can do, my friends.”

  “Good. There are a few things we need to understand first. Tell us why Akhendi would attack not only me but Alec and Beka as well.”

  Nyal shifted uneasily in his chair. “Akhendi attacked you? When?”

  Seregil took out the sen’gai. “We found these among the belongings of those so-called bandits after you left us.”

  “By the Light! But Rhaish said—”

  “We know what he said,” Seregil cut in. “I also know about Alec’s run-in with Emiel í Moranthi. You remember that, don’t you? Alec says you took his warding charm to be restored? Did you give it to anyone?”