Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon

by Lynn Flewelling

  "Play up Klia's illness, Beka. Keep the Iia'sidra away from her as long as you can. If you do get trapped here, Adzriel will protect you, even if it means claiming you as hostages." He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you'll see Bokthersa before I do."

  "That still leaves us penned in here with a spy." Thero shook his head in disgust. "Ever since I read that letter, I've been wondering how someone could have been spying on us under our very noses. If they'd used magic, I swear I'd have sensed it!"

  "Torsin managed to carry on his business without our tumbling for quite some time," Seregil reminded him. "That didn't take any magic."

  "But with Klia's knowledge," the wizard countered.

  "When I find out who it is, they'll wish for poison!" hissed Beka, clenching a fist against her thigh. "There must be some way of flushing them out."

  "I was thinking about that earlier," Alec said. "You're not going to like this, but what about the dispatch riders? It would be easy enough for them to slip a message through, since they're the ones carrying them. They're also the last ones to handle the pouch before it's sealed."

  "Mercalle's decuria?" Beka snorted. "By the Flame, Alec, we've been through Bilairy's gate and back together!"

  "Not all of them. What about the new ones? Phoria could have turned one of them."

  "Or had them placed in Urgazhi Turma before this ever started," added Seregil. "In her place, that's what I'd have done. Knowing Phoria, she'd want eyes and ears anywhere she could get them— especially among Klia's troops."

  Beka shook her head stubbornly. "We lost half of Mercalle's decuria during the battle on the way over here. Ileah, Urien, and Ari are all that are left of the new recruits, and they're just pups. As for the rest, Zir and Marten have been with me since the turma was formed. I know them. They've saved my life a dozen times over and I've done the same for them. They're loyal to the marrow of their bones."

  "Just let me speak with Mercalle," Alec persisted. "She's closer to them than anyone. Maybe she's seen something, something she didn't even know was suspicious."

  But Beka still hesitated. "Do you know what even the hint of this could do to the others? I need them united."

  "It won't go beyond this room," Alec promised. "If anything does

  come up, Thero can deal with it with total secrecy. But we have to know."

  Beka cast an imploring look at Seregil but found no help there. "All right, then, send for Mercalle." She looked down at Klia. "But don't question her here. Not here."

  "We can use my room," said Thero. He flicked a tiny message sphere into being and sent it skittering through the wall with a wave of his hand.

  The cooler air in the wizard's chamber seemed to clear Seregil's head, enough for him to feel chagrin at not having arrived at Alec's conclusions himself.

  Alec had been right all along—and the rhui'auros, too. Since he'd come back to Aurenen, he'd been too wrapped up in his own past, his own demons, to be of much use to anyone. Perhaps it went back even further than that. In rejecting Rhiminee, had he buried the man he'd been there, the Rhiminee Cat? I'd have been dead a hundred times over, or starved for lack of trade, if I was like this all the time.

  He sat down in the chair next to Thero's neatly made bed; the others remained standing.

  Mercalle entered a few moments later and came to attention in front of Thero, oblivious to the tension in the room. "You sent for me, my lord?"

  "It was me, Sergeant," Alec told her, and Seregil could see him rubbing a thumb nervously over the fingers of one hand. Alec admired the Urgazhi and had always been a bit in awe of them. To bring such an accusation against them was a difficult duty, and no less so for being self-imposed.

  Once committed, however, he didn't hesitate. "We have reason to believe that there's a spy in the household," he told her. "Someone who's able to get messages back to Queen Phoria. I'm sorry to say this, but it could be someone in your decuria."

  The greying sergeant stared at him in shocked silence, and Seregil felt a cold jolt of certainty. Oh, hell, she does know something.

  "This is hard, I know," Alec went on. "The idea of any Urgazhi putting Klia in danger—"

  Mercalle wavered a moment, then sank to her knees in front of Beka. "Forgive me, Captain, I never thought it would come to this!" Eyes averted, she drew the dagger from her belt and offered it hilt foremost.

  Beka made no move to accept the offered weapon. Her face had gone blank, but Seregil recognized the pain in her eyes and fought down the impulse to grab the sergeant by the hair and shake her. Mercalle and Braknil had trained Beka when she'd first joined the regiment. Both had requested to serve under her when she earned her lieutenant's gorget. Between the three of them, they'd forged Urgazhi Turma.

  That first betrayal—it's always the worst, the one that never quite heals.

  "Stand and explain yourself," Beka ordered.

  Mercalle rose slowly to attention. "I'm glad it's come out, Captain. I offer no excuses, but on my honor I hoped it would be for the best. I swear it by Sakor's Flame."

  "Just get on with it."

  "General Phoria summoned me the night Queen Idrilain gave Klia this mission," Mercalle said. "She believed her mother wouldn't survive to see this out. As heir, she wanted her own informant on the scene."

  "But why you?" Beka demanded, and this time there was no mistaking the grief behind the words.

  Mercalle stared at the far wall, not looking at her. "Phoria was the first officer I ever served under. With respect, Captain, I came up through the ranks under her before you were born. We saw dark times together—and good ones, too. She was there when I married both my husbands, and when I buried them. I'm not proud of what she's asked of me here, but orders are orders and she was in her rights as High Commander. I thought, 'If not me, then she'll find someone who doesn't feel the loyalty I do to Klia,' and to you, Captain. All I was asked to do was to send observations. That's all I did. I never opened any letters entrusted to me, or mislaid any. If what I wrote contradicted them, it's on my head. I only told the truth as I saw it, and tried to put the best light on it that I could for Commander Klia's sake. If I'd ever thought it would come to this—" A tear rolled slowly down her cheek. "I'd cut off my sword hand before I'd willingly bring harm to any of you."

  "Did you send word that we knew of the queen's death?" asked Seregil.

  "I sent my respects, my lord. I thought you all had." "Then it was you, listening outside the door of Klia's room when we learned of it," said Alec.

  Mercalle shot him another startled look. "Just for a bit. Those were orders, too."

  Seregil recalled the bit of stable muck they'd found in the corridor outside and shook his head. Bilairy's Balls, it was a good thing one of them had retained some sense.

  "Are any of the other riders involved?" asked Beka.

  "On my honor, Captain, none of them. How could I order them to do something I found so repugnant myself?"

  "Have you sent Phoria word of what's happened to Klia?" Seregil demanded.

  "No, Lord Thero ordered me not to, the day she fell ill."

  Seregil snorted. "A spy with honor. I just hope you're telling us the truth, Sergeant. You may have doomed us all as it is."

  "When did you last send a report?" asked Alec.

  "The day before Klia collapsed."

  "And what did you say? "

  "That the date of the vote had been set, and that no one seemed very hopeful about the outcome."

  "We'll speak more of this later," Beka growled. Going to the door, she called in the two sentries on duty, Ariani and Patra. "Riders, keep Sergeant Mercalle under guard. She's relieved of duty until you hear differently from me."

  To their credit, the riders didn't hesitate, though they both looked thunderstruck by the order. When they were gone, Beka rounded on Alec. "You knew it was her?"

  "I didn't," he assured her. "Not until just now."

  "Oh, Alec," Seregil muttered. His own reputation as a clever intriguer was founded on more for
tuitous discoveries of this sort than he liked to admit, but he'd always been careful to capitalize on them by making it look intentional after the fact.

  "There's a certain logic in what she said," Thero offered. "Perhaps it was better having a friend doing the spying than an enemy."

  Beka stalked angrily to the window. "I'm aware of that. If Phoria had given me the same order—" She slammed her hand against the sill. "No! No, damn it! I'd have found a way to tell Klia, protect her. By the Flame, how could Phoria do this? It sounds as if she was counting on her mother's death."

  Thero shook his head sadly. "My friends, I believe we are seeing the beginnings of a new era for Skala, one we may not like very much."

  "We can worry about that later," Seregil said. "Right now we have enough problems. We'll leave as soon as it's dark."

  Beka turned to look at him. "What are we going to tell your sisters?"

  "Let me speak to them." Seregil ran a hand back through his hair and sighed, not relishing the prospect of such a farewell.

  38

  Traitor's Moon

  Seregil put off going to his sisters until nightfall, though they were never far from his thoughts. He and Alec had made most of their stealthy preparations separately, ostensibly to avoid notice. The truth was, he'd needed some small part of this leave-taking to himself.

  Alone in the bedchamber that afternoon, he found himself working too quickly as he gathered what little he needed for the journey: his mail shirt, warm Aurenfaie clothes, a water skin, his tools.

  Corruth's ring bumped gently against his chest as he worked. He paused a moment and pressed a hand over it, knowing he'd thrown away any chance he might have had to wear it with honor. He was already an outlaw.

  A sudden wave of dizziness forced him down on the edge of the bed. It had been easy enough to keep up a front for the others; dissembling was one of his greatest talents. But alone now, he felt something inside break, sharp and hurtful as one of the shattered glass orbs from his visions. Pressing a hand over his eyes, he fought back the tears seeping beneath his tightly closed lids.

  "I'm right. I know I'm right!" he whispered. He was the only one Korathan would listen to.

  But you 're not so certain as you 've let on that he'll agree, are you?

  Shamed by his momentary weakness, he wiped his face and pulled his poniard from his bedroll, savoring the familiar weight of its hilt against his palm. Beka had kept this and his dagger for him since they landed in Gedre. He tested the edges of the slender blade with a thumbnail, then slipped it into the knife pocket in his boot; another proscription broken.

  If he failed? Well then, his failure would be gloriously complete. He hadn't protected Klia. He hadn't caught the assassins. Now he was probably throwing away his life, and Alec's in the bargain, to forestall Phoria's insane act of aggression.

  Even if they did succeed, what awaited them in Skala? What sort of a queen ruled there now, and how glad would she be to see her sister safely home?

  Another question lurked below all the others, one he had no intention of examining until he was well away from Aurenen—

  forever

  —a question he planned to spend the rest of his life avoiding.

  what if—?

  No!

  Tossing his pack on the bed, he made a quick circuit of the room, focusing on its remaining contents. Whatever he left behind he wasn't likely to see again. No matter. He was about to go when the soft glint of silver caught his eye amid a pile of clothing next to the bed. Bending down, he fished out the vial of lissik the rhui'auros had given him.

  "Might as well have something to show for my troubles," he mumbled, slipping it into a belt pouch.

  The first lamps were being lit when he finally slipped next door. Alec hadn't offered to come, bless him, just given him a quick, knowing embrace.

  Both Adzriel and Mydri were at home. Taking them aside into a small sitting room, he shut the door and leaned against it.

  "I'm leaving Sarikali tonight."

  Mydri was the first to recover. "You can't!"

  Adzriel silenced her with a glance, then searched her brother's face with sorrow-filled eyes. "You do this for Klia?"

  "For her. For Skala. For Aurenen."

  "But it's teth'sag if you leave the city," Mydri said.

  "Only for me," he told her. "I'm still outcast, so Bokthersa can't be held accountable."

  "Oh, tali," Adzriel said softly. "With all you've done here, you might have won your name back in time."

  There it was, that question he'd buried alive.

  "Perhaps, but at too high a price," he told her.

  "Then tell us why!" Mydri pleaded.

  He gathered the two women close, suddenly needing their arms around him, their tears hot against his neck.

  O Aural he cried silently, clinging to them. It was so tempting to let them convince him, to take it all back and simply wait out the inevitable here, as close to home as he was ever likely to get in this life. If Klia were taken hostage, perhaps he'd even be allowed to stay with her.

  It hurt. By the Light, it hurt to leave that embrace, but he had to, before it was too late.

  "I'm sorry, but I can't explain," he told them. "You couldn't maintain atui if you had to keep my secret. All I ask is that you say nothing until tomorrow. Later, when everything's sorted, I'll explain, I swear. But I promise you now, by the khi of our parents, that what I'm doing is honorable and right. A wise man warned me that I'd have to make choices. This is the right one, even if it's not what I'd hoped."

  "Wait here, then." Adzriel turned and hurried from the room.

  "You little fool!" Mydri hissed, glaring at him again. "After all it took to bring you here, you do this to her? To me?"

  Seregil caught her hand and pressed it over his heart. "You're a healer. Tell me what you feel," he challenged, meeting her anger with his own. "Is it joy? Betrayal? Hatred for you or my people?"

  She went still, and he felt heat spread slowly across his skin beneath her palm. "No," she whispered. "No, Haba, I feel none of that. Only resolve, and fear."

  Seregil laughed a little at that. "More fear than resolve just now."

  Mydri pulled him close again, hugging him hard. "You're still a fool, Haba, but you've grown into a fine, good man in spite of it. Aura watch over you always and everywhere."

  "Our other sisters will hate me for this."

  "They're bigger fools even than you," she said with a tearful laugh, pushing him away. "Adzriel's the only one of the five of us worth a peddler's pot."

  Laughing outright, he thanked her with a kiss.

  Adzriel returned with a long, slender bundle in her arms. "We

  meant to give you this when you left. It seems the time has come, if a bit sooner than I'd anticipated." Folding back the cloth wrappings at the upper end, she presented him with the hilt of a sword.

  Seregil reached without thinking, closing his hand around the leather and wire-wrapped grip. With a single smooth motion he pulled the blade free of its scabbard.

  Polished steel caught the light like dark silver. A grooved fuller ran down the center of the blade, making it both strong and light. Tapered cross guards curved gracefully toward the blade, good for catching an opponent's sword.

  Seregil's breath caught in his throat as he hefted it. It moved perfectly in his hand, just heavy enough, and balanced by the weight of its round, flat pommel.

  "Akaien made this, didn't he?" he asked, recognizing his uncle's hand in the sword's clean, strong lines.

  "Of course," Adzriel replied. "We knew that you wouldn't want Father's, so he made this for you. After seeing how you lived in Rhiminee, I suspected you wouldn't want anything too ornate."

  "It's beautiful. And this!" He smoothed a thumb over the unusual pommel, a large disk of polished Sarikali stone set in a steel bevel. "I've never seen anything like it."

  No sooner had he said it, however, than he had the strongest sense that he had seen something very much like it, though
he wasn't certain where.

  "He said it came to him in a dream, a talisman to keep you safe and bring you luck," Mydri explained.

  "Luck in the shadows," he murmured in Skalan, shaking his head.

  " You know Akaien and his dreams!" Mydri said fondly.

  Seregil looked up at her in surprise. "I'd forgotten."

  He sheathed the blade and ran his fingers over the fine leather scabbard and long belt, fighting the temptation to put it on. "I'm not supposed to carry a weapon here, you know."

  "You're not supposed to be leaving, either," Adzriel said with a catch in her voice. "With all Alec and Beka have told me, I was worried that you would not accept it."

  Seregil shook his head, bemused. His hand had known this weapon from the instant he'd touched it; it hadn't occurred to him to refuse it.

  "I promise you this." Unsheathing it again, he put the hilt in Adzriel's hand and set the point against his heart, leaning into it until it dented the front of his coat. "By Aura Elustri, and by the name I once had, this blade will never be drawn in anger against an Aurenfaie."

  "Then keep your temper and protect yourself," Adzriel advised, handing it back. "What shall I say when they find you gone?" Seregil smiled crookedly. "Tell them I got homesick."

  He hid the sword in the stable, then took the back stairs two at a time. Resisting the urge to look in on Klia one last time, he hurried to his room, taking care to inform several servants he met along the way that he and Alec were retiring for the night.

  The bedchamber was in near darkness, lit only by one small lamp. The balcony shutters were closed tight. The tunic and trousers he'd stolen earlier lay on the neatly made bed, together with an Akhendi sen'gai.

  "Alec?" he called softly, hastily changing his clothes.

  "Over here. I'm just finishing up," a voice said from somewhere beyond the bed.

  Alec stepped into the light, still toweling his wet hair. Seregil halted, unexpectedly moved by the sight of his friend wearing Aurenfaie clothing. It suited Alec, making him look more 'faie than ya'shel. He'd always had the slender build and carriage—Seregil had recognized that the first time he'd laid eyes on him—but somehow it was more apparent now. As Alec removed the towel, the resemblance became that much stronger. Thanks to a walnut-shell concoction they'd brewed up earlier, his yellow hair and brows were now as brown as Seregil's.