Stalking Darkness n-2

by Lynn Flewelling

  She gave Alec a last, rather puzzled look, then strolled away accompanied by Nyreidian and the others.

  "I said something wrong, didn't I?" Alec whispered hurriedly, before some other guest descended on them.

  "My fault," Seregil replied with a slight smile. "If I'd been here this last week I'd have thought to prepare you better. Illia was my mother's name. My eldest sister, Adzriel a Illia, was recently made a member of the lia'sidra."

  "Sister?" Never, in all the time Alec had known him, had Seregil mentioned his family, or almost anything else about his past in Aurenen. Alec had come to assume that his friend was as much an orphan as himself.

  "And eldest? How many do you have?"

  "Four, actually. I was the only boy, and the youngest," Seregil replied somewhat tersely.

  "Little brother Seregil?" Alec smothered a grin as his entire perception of his friend subtly shifted. He could sense the old barriers going up again, however, and prudently changed the subject. "It sounds like the Skalans want Aurenen as allies again, like they were in the Great War."

  "They do, but bad blood over Corruth will get in the way. Our recent discovery may make things worse rather than better, at least for now."

  "But it's been almost three hundred years since Corruth disappeared."

  "Remember who we're talking about, Alec. Many of the most powerful people on the lia'sidra were his friends and contemporaries. They haven't forgotten the reception he received from the Skalans when he married their queen, or his suspicious disappearance after her death. If Lera hadn't had the poor sense to leave her half sister Corruthesthera alive, there might have been war between the two nations then. As for a new alliance, I'm afraid that may depend more on the Plenimarans in the end. If they join with Zengat—"

  "Oh, Lord Seregil! There you are!"

  A gaggle of young nobles crowded noisily around them, wreathed in expectant grins.

  "We thought you'd never come home," chided a young woman, wrapping her arm through Seregil's. "You missed my autumn revel this year, you know."

  Seregil pressed a hand dramatically to his heart. "As I stood on a rolling deck under a full red moon that night, my thoughts were all of you. Can you forgive me?"

  "It was a crescent moon; I recall it perfectly. But I'll grant you a conditional pardon if you'll introduce me to your new friend," she fluttered, looking boldly across at Alec, who'd been crowded to the edge of the circle.

  Alec smiled his way through an onslaught of complex introductions, noting as he did so that his polite greetings were not always returned with the same grace.

  A number of them, in fact, were decidedly cool.

  Seregil hesitated as he came to a handsome, auburn-haired dandy surrounded by an entourage of admirers. "Forgive me, sir, I don't believe I've had the pleasure?"

  The man gave an elaborate bow. "Pelion i Eirsin Heileus Quirion of Rhiminee, dear sir."

  "Not the acclaimed actor, who just played «Ertis» at the Tirarie?" gasped Seregil.

  The man puffed visibly. "The same, my lord. I pray you'll forgive my intrusion, but my companions insisted."

  "On the contrary, I'm delighted! I hope you'll let me know when you next perform. By all reports, you're the next Kroseus."

  "I've been fortunate, was Pelion demurred modestly.

  "And well patronized," a man beside him announced. "Do you know that his current role was written specifically for him?"

  "We knew you wouldn't mind," a sallow youth confided smugly to Seregil. "Poor Pelion is in love, you see, and his lady friend may turn up here tonight. It's all very tragic and impossible. But we've got another treat for you. Donaeus has composed the most cunningly subtle epos in twenty-three parts. It's a marvelous piece of art!"

  Seregil turned to the poet in question, a petulant-looking giant in worn velvets.

  "Twenty-three parts? What a monumental undertaking."

  "It's glorious," a girl effused. "It's all about the death of Arshelol and Boresthia, but done in the most original fashion. And of course, he'll need a patron. You really must hear it."

  "Donaeus, read it for him at once!" cried the sallow one. "No one appreciates the new verse styles so well as Lord Seregil. I'm sure Sir Alec could spare him for a bit."

  The slight was not lost on Alec. There were a few suppressed titters, but he maintained his composure.

  "Go on, by all means." He smiled, locking gazes with his ostensible rival. "The significance of poetry has always eluded me. Honest ballads and sword fights are more to my taste."

  "Well then, let's go up to the library," said Seregil, giving Alec an amused wink as he ushered them upstairs.

  Turning, Alec nearly collided with Myrhini and Beka Cavish, who'd drifted over with their uniformed comrades.

  "Arrogant little turds, aren't they?" Beka muttered, glowering after the poet's entourage. "I run into a bit of that myself now and then."

  "What could they have against me?" Alec burst out, not knowing whether to be more amused or insulted.

  "Nothing, except that you had the poor taste to be born north of the Cirna Canal."

  "There are always a few like that." Myrhini shrugged, then skillfully snagged a tray of wine cups from a passing server. "Scattering a few teeth usually quiets 'em down. In your case though, it's more likely just whey-blooded jealousy. There's more than a few among that set who'd like to be in your boots."

  She paused to run an eye over him. "You're looking fitter than last time I saw you. Klia's at the Vigil, and sends her regards. I go on duty in a few hours, but felt honor-bound to assess the new recruit here, seeing as how she's under my command. Rider Beka tells me you've crossed blades a time or two— But here's someone else we know!"

  "Valerius of Colath, Drysian of the First Order and High Priest of the Temple of Dalna at Rhiminee," Runcer announced.

  Valerius strode into the room still clad in his ceremonial robe and circlet, though he'd exchanged the ivory staff for his old wooden one.

  "The blessing of Dalna be on this house and those within it," he intoned, thumping the floor.

  Alec hurried forward to greet him. "Welcome. Seregil just went upstairs to hear a poet, but he should be back soon."

  The drysian let out an inelegant snort. "That fool Donaeus, no doubt, spouting his doggerel in twenty-three fatuous farts? He must still be scratching around for a patron. He read bits of the mess at Lady Arbella's banquet last week. Fairly took away my appetite. If he corners Seregil with the whole of it, we're not likely to get him back before dawn."

  "Maybe Alec should go rescue him," suggested Beka.

  "No, leave him. Serves him right for encouraging that pack of pedantic buffoons. What knavery have you two been up to these days? Learning swordplay, I hear, Alec?" The drysian lowered his voice to a confidential rumble. "You'll need it, considering the company you've fallen into."

  "And look at you!" he exclaimed, glowering at Beka. "Running off to join regiments instead of getting married like a good Dalnan girl? This young fellow here is about your age, isn't he?"

  "Leave off, you," Myrhini cried, laughing as Beka shifted uncomfortably. "She's the best rider I've had this year and I don't want to lose her to the hearth."

  "Valerius!" Seregil called as he came down the stairs, apparently having escaped from the poets on his own. "Did you get Old Sakor safely launched?"

  Valerius chuckled. "There's considerable chop on the harbor tonight. Poor old Morantiel was as green as a squash before they left the mooring, but I suspect he'll survive."

  "I thought he sounded rather unsteady during the prophecy," Seregil remarked casually, signaling for a wine server.

  "After all these years of shamming, I imagine it was a bit of a shock when something mystical actually occurred."

  "Then you believe it was genuine?"

  Valerius raised a bristling eyebrow. "You know as well as I do it was. I don't know what that "Eater of Death" business was all about, but I didn't like the feel of those ravens." At the door, Runcer st
epped forward again and announced, "Nysander i Azusthra Hypirius Meksandor Illandi, High Thaumaturgist of the Third Oreska, with the Lady Magyana a Rhioni Methistabel Tinuva Ylani, High Thaumaturgist of the Third Oreska. And Sir Micum Cavish of Watermead, with Dame Kari and daughters Elsbet and Illia."

  Nysander and Magyana, normally the least ostentatious wizards of the Oreska, had put on the rich ceremonial robes befitting their status in honor of the occasion. Behind them, the Cavishes were as splendidly rigged out as any lord in the room.

  Illia clung to her mother's hand, squirming with excitement in her new dress. Elsbet looked poised and solemn in burgundy velvet.

  "Didn't you invite Thero?" Alec whispered teasingly to Seregil.

  "I always invite Thero! But watch. We're in for a treat."

  At his signal, the musicians stilled their instruments. The other guests stepped back as Nysander escorted Magyana to the center of the room.

  With a slight nod to their host, he waved a hand about in a swift, careless gesture and the painted walls sprang to life.

  The high chamber was frescoed from floor to ceiling to imitate a forest glade. The branches of life-size oaks hung with flowering vines extended across the vaulted ceiling overhead. Between their grey trunks distant vistas of mountain and sea were visible. Even the stone gallery at the back of the room, where the musicians softly played, was carved and latticed to resemble a leafy bower.

  At Nysander's command, golden light from some unseen sun glowed across the scene. A soft breeze stirred around the room, carrying with it the scent of flowers and warm earth overlaid with a hint of the distant painted sea. The painted trees stirred in the breeze, dappling shadows across the floor. Painted birds left their places and fluttered through the branches, filling the air with song.

  A murmur of delight greeted the display, but the wizards were not finished. Magyana drew a crystal wand from her sleeve and wove the tip of it in the air, conjuring a perfect sphere of iridescent light the size of a pomegranate.

  "Come, my lord." She smiled, motioning to Seregil.

  "As host, the honor belongs to you."

  "An honor which I in turn bestow on Sir Alec on this, his first Mourning Night with us."

  Amid a flurry of applause, Alec followed Magyana's whispered instructions and reached out a finger as if to burst a child's soap bubble.

  At his touch the sphere burst in a brilliant scintilla of light. Seconds later the thud of hooves against turf sounded near the gallery as a herd of white deer materialized in the painted forest and galloped once around the room before settling to graze near the dining-room archway.

  Rainbow-winged serpents swooped up from a painted cavern, singing with beautiful voices. Winged sprites and willow branch maidens peeped shyly from tree trunks.

  Laughing and clapping delightedly, the guests spun around to take in the spectacle. Illia pulled loose from Kari and ran to Beka, leaping into her sister's arms.

  "It's magic, Beka! Real wizard magic! And you've got your uniform. You're a horse guard!"

  Beka hugged her back, grinning. "That's just what I am."

  "We must have proper music!" cried Seregil.

  "Fiddlers, give us "The Shepherd's Idyll'!"

  The musicians set to with a will and couples paired for the sprightly dance.

  "Here you are!" Kari exclaimed, coming to embrace her eldest daughter.

  "She was afraid we wouldn't see you before tomorrow," Micum explained. "She's been fretting about it all afternoon."

  "Oh, I was not," snapped his wife. "Turn around, girl. Let me see all of you!"

  "Thero was otherwise engaged, I see," Seregil remarked with a sly glance at Nysander.

  "Ah, hello, Valerius," said Nysander, escorting Magyana over to them again. "You acquitted yourself bravely in the sanctuary this evening. were the ravens saying anything intelligible?"

  "We were just discussing that," the drysian replied.

  "Heavy-handed as the Sakorans are with their "oracles," they weren't responsible for the birds, or that business with the Aegis, if I'm any judge."

  "It was unquestionably magic of some sort," mused Magyana. "It may be a portent from Sakor, but it bodes ill nonetheless."

  "It certainly bears looking into," agreed Nysander, "but just now I cannot seem to resist the music. Do you think we have a dance or two left in us, my dear?"

  "I think they'll have to chain your feet together to keep them still when they bury you," Magyana replied with a twinkle.

  Valerius watched with gruff fondness as the pair danced away. "Ridiculous, that Oreskan celibacy of hers. Those two should have married centuries ago." Then something else appeared to catch his eye and a wry grin spread in the depths of his black beard. "Now there's someone I didn't expect to see here tonight. And just look who he's with!"

  "Ylinestra a Maranial Wisthra Ylinena Erind, Sorceress of Erind," announced Runcer.

  "And Thero i Procepios Bynardin Chylnir Rhiminee, Wizard of the Second Order, of the Third Oreska."

  "Well, well!" murmured Seregil.

  Thero did look uncharacteristically sanguine, standing at the head of the chamber with Ylinestra on his arm. The sorceress' silk gown glittered with jeweled beading and the bodice, fashionable in the extreme, showed pink half-crescent hints of nipple beneath the heavy necklace of pearl and jet she wore over her bared breasts. Her ebony hair was caught back in a similar jeweled web, exposing a graceful white neck.

  Seregil propelled Alec forward with a gentle nudge. "Come on, Sir Alec. Let's greet our illustrious guests."

  "Welcome to my home, lady," he said, stepping up to kiss her hand.

  "Thank you, Lord Seregil," she replied with a cool nod. "And this must be your new companion I've been hearing so much about?"

  "Alec of Ivywell," Alec told her, wondering with sudden discomfort whether she recalled their first brief, tempestuous meeting soon after his arrival at the Oreska House. If she did, however, she gave no sign of it. Extending her hand, she enveloped him with a heart-stopping smile.

  "Ah, a Mycenian. How delightful."

  She clearly meant for him to kiss her hand and he bent dutifully over it. A faint perfume rose in his nostrils, subtle yet strangely compelling.

  Her hand, so warm and soft, lingered in his, and as he raised his head, his eyes swept across her breasts to her lovely violet eyes with a studied enjoyment he wouldn't have imagined himself capable of. Still she held him, and her low-pitched voice sent an unfamiliar tingle through his body when she spoke.

  "Nysander speaks so warmly of you. I hope that we may know one another better."

  "I'm honored, lady," Alec replied, his voice sounding distant in his ears. She withdrew her hand at last and the world returned to normal.

  "Good evening," Thero said stiffly, looking somewhat less than pleased to be there.

  "Forgive Thero's bad grace," Ylinestra murmured, once more wrapping Alec in the warm embrace of her eyes. "He is here only as a favor to me, I fear, and is being quite sulky. Come, Thero, perhaps wine will improve your disposition."

  As he escorted her into the throng, the actor Pelion stepped into their path with an elaborate bow, which Thero evaded with a curt and proprietary nod. Pelion fell back a pace, then followed Ylinestra with lovesick eyes.

  "Ah, so that's the actor's hopeless love," Seregil noted with a smirk. "He's certainly got some competition tonight. And if Thero gets any stiffer, he's likely to fall over and break."

  "She was kind of abrupt with you, I thought," observed Alec.

  "Well, I'm not exactly her type. Evidently you are."

  Alec colored warmly. Her perfume still clung to his fingers. "I only greeted her."

  The musicians struck up a reel and he turned to watch the dancers. Micum swirled by with Kari, laughing and smiling; Nysander and Magyana followed close behind. One of the poets had somehow captured Elsbet and she blushed happily as he swept her along. Across the room, Ylinestra was chatting with the actor while Thero hovered close at hand with badl
y concealed impatience.

  "What's she doing with Thero?" Alec wondered aloud.

  "Judging by the look of him, nothing he'd want Nysander to know about," Valerius remarked.

  "Nysander knows," said Seregil. "I think he was getting bored with her, anyway, but I still say it was bad manners for her to grab Thero next."

  "I doubt if she was the only one doing the grabbing," scoffed Valerius. "If he wants to stick his head in the dragon's mouth, let him. Just see that young Alec here keeps a safe distance."

  "I just greeted her, for—" Alec sputtered, but was interrupted by Myrhini and Beka.

  "I'm off for the Vigil," said Myrhini. "Hope to see you all at the investiture tomorrow."

  As soon as the captain was gone, Beka turned to Alec with a knowing grin. "Ylinestra's very beautiful, wouldn't you say?"

  Alec groaned. "What was I supposed to do, knock her down?"

  "For a minute there I thought you were going to."

  "Well, I'm sure I'm no danger to her, when she can obviously have her pick of any man in Rhiminee," he countered. "What about you, though? Can you dance in uniform?"

  Beka looked down at her tabard and boots. "I think we can manage."

  They made a passable business of the reel and went on dancing when the next song began, in truth, Beka was in such high spirits over her commission that Alec thought she could probably fly if the notion struck her. They soon caught each other's rhythm and went on dancing with scarcely a break until Micum cut in to say that Kari and the younger girls were retiring for the night.

  "I didn't realize how late it had gotten," Beka said, letting go of Alec's hand with evident regret. "I'll go up and visit with Mother a while before I head back to the barracks. I've got to be up early for the ceremony."

  Giving Alec a quick peck on the cheek, she added, "You and Seregil are coming, aren't you? There'll be hundreds of us, of course, so you probably won't even see me."

  "With that hair?" Alec teased, tugging at the end of her coppery braid. "You'll stick out like a drunkard's nose!"

  "I'll remember that remark the next time we work on your swordplay," Beka warned with a dire grin. "Until tomorrow, then."

  Left to his own devices again, he looked for Seregil and spotted him on the far side of the crowded floor. No sooner had he worked his way through the crowd, however, when Seregil was waylaid by a noble complaining at length about some shipping venture he and Seregil were involved with. Alec listened politely for a time, but his attention soon wandered.