Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (15 page)

look, but their guide was already ushering them toward the khirnari's table beneath the largest tree. Klia and Torsin sat to Riagil's right, Amali a Yassara to his left. Alec was chagrined to find himself furthest from the others, seated between two of Riagil's grandchildren.

All the same, he found the food and etiquette involved in dining considerably less complicated than what he'd encountered at Skalan banquets.

Poached fish, a rich venison stew, and pastries stuffed with cheese, vegetables, and spices were served with baskets of bread shaped into fanciful animals. Platters of roasted vegetables, nuts, and several kinds of olives soon followed. Attentive stewards kept his cup filled with a spicy drink his dining companions called
rassos.

No formal entertainment had been arranged; instead, various guests of the feast simply stood up on their benches and started a song or performed some colorful magical trick. As the meal progressed and the rassos flowed, these impromptu exhibitions grew more frequent and more boisterous.

Too far from the others to participate in their conversation, Alec looked with envy toward Beka's table. The riders of Urgazhi Turma were mingling sociably with those of the Aurenfaie honor guard. The interpreter, Nyal, was seated beside Beka, and the two looked to be sharing some joke.

Seregil also seemed to be making the best of things. Amali was still ignoring him, but he'd managed to strike up a conversation with several other 'faie. Catching Alec watching, Seregil gave him an amused wave, as if to say, "Be charming and make the best of things."

Alec turned again to his young dining companions.

"You really knew nothing of your 'faie blood?" asked the boy, Mial, after quizzing him pointedly about his family background. "Don't you have any magic?"

"Well, Seregil did teach me a trick with dogs," Alec said, showing him the left-handed sign. "But that's about it."

"Anyone can do that!" scoffed the girl, Makia, who appeared to be about fourteen.

"It's still magic," said her brother, though Alec had the impression he was merely being polite.

"I always just thought of it as a trick," Alec admitted. "None of the wizards we know seem to think I have any real magic in me."

"They're Tirfaie," Makia scoffed. "Watch this."

Furrowing her brow, she scowled down at her plate. Three olive pits slowly rose into the air and hung unsteadily in front of her face for a moment before clattering back to the table. "And I'm only twenty-two!"

"Twenty-two?" Alec turned to Mial in surprise. "And you?" The young Aurenfaie grinned. "Thirty. How old are you?" "Almost nineteen," Alec replied, suddenly feeling a bit strange.
 
Mial stared at him a moment, then nodded. "It's the same with some of our half-breed cousins; you mature much faster at first. You might want to keep your age to yourself once you get over the mountains, though. The purer clans don't understand ya'shel the way we do here. The last thing your talimenios needs is another scandal."

Alec felt his face go warm. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

"You are to advise Princess Klia on the western clans, I understand?" Amali a Yassara remarked, addressing Seregil directly for the first time.

Seregil looked up from his dessert to find her studying him coolly. "I hope to be of service to both our lands."

"And you do not think their request was in part motivated by the possibility that your presence would elicit strong reactions in certain quarters?"

Klia smiled at Seregil over the rim of her cup; blunt speech was considered a sign of goodwill in Aurenen. After all his years of intrigue in Skala, however, it was going to take some getting used to.

"The thought did occur to me," Seregil replied, adding pointedly, "However, as Lord Torsin opposed my inclusion for the very same reasons, I doubt that was their aim."

"Despite the errors of his youth, I can assure you that Seregil is a man of honor," Klia interjected calmly. He kept his eyes on his dessert dish as she went on.

"I've known him all my life, and he's been invaluable to my mother. No doubt you have heard that it was he and Alec who found the remains of Corruth i Glamien while uncovering a plot against the Skalan throne? I'm sure I don't have to explain to you the effect that discovery has had on relations between our two countries. If not for that, I might not be sitting here with you now, nor would Skalan ships be riding at anchor in this harbor again after all these years."

Riagil saluted her with his cup. "I begin to see why your mother entrusted you with this mission, Klia a Idrilain.

"I do not doubt what you say of him, or disparage his good works," Amali said, apparently content to speak again as if Seregil were not there. "But if he is still 'faie in his heart, then he knows that one cannot change the past."

"Yet may not one's past be forgiven?" Klia countered. When the question went unanswered, she turned to Riagil. "What do you think his reception will be at Sarikali?"

The khirnari gave Seregil a thoughtful look, then replied, "I think that he should keep his friends close by."

A warning or a threat?
wondered Seregil, unable to discern the sentiment behind the man's bland words. As the evening wore on, he often looked up to find Riagil watching him with that same enigmatic look—not smiling, but not cold, either.

After the meal people wandered among the tables, sharing wine and conversation.

Seregil was just looking about for Alec when he felt an arm around his waist.

"Torsin was right about her, wasn't he?" Alec muttered, nodding slightly in Amali a Yassara's direction.

"It's atui," Seregil replied with a loose shrug.

"She also fears the effect you'll have on the Iia'sidra," Nyal said behind them.

Seregil rounded on the eavesdropper with poorly concealed annoyance. "It seems to be the prevailing attitude."

"Princess Klia's success means a great deal to the Akhendi," the Ra'basi observed. "I doubt she would judge your past so harshly if it did not pose a threat to her own interests."

"You seem to know much about her."

"As I told you, I am a traveler. One learns much that way." Bowing politely, he wandered off into the crowd.

Seregil watched him go, then exchanged a dark look with Alec. "Remarkable hearing that man has."

The gathering gradually tapered off as restless children disappeared into the shadows beyond the trees and their elders made their farewells to the Skalans. Released from social obligations at last, Alec had retreated to the company of Beka and her riders. When Seregil rose at last to take his leave, however, Riagil stayed him with a gesture.

"Do you remember the moon garden court?" asked the khirnari. "As I recall, it was a favorite haunt of yours."

"Of course."
                                           
.

"Would you care to see it again?"

"Very much, Khirnari," Seregil replied, wondering where this unexpected overture would lead.

They walked in silence through the warren of dwellings to a small courtyard at the far side of the enclosure. Unlike the other gardens, where colored blossoms contrasted vividly against sun-baked walls, this place was made for the meditations of the night. It was filled with every sort of white flower, medicinal herb, and silvery-leafed plant, banked like drifted snow in beds along paths paved with black slate. Even under the waning crescent that rode the stars tonight, the blossoms glowed in the darkness. Overhead, tubular paper kites with calligraphy-covered streamers rustled on wires, breathing their painted prayers on the night breeze.

The two men stood quietly awhile, admiring the perfection of the place.

Presently Riagil let out a long sigh. "I once carried you sleeping to your bed from here. It seems not so long ago."

Seregil winced. "I'd be mortified if any of my Tir companions heard you say that."

"We are not Tir, you and I," Riagil said, his face lost for a moment in shadow. "Yet I see now that you've grown strange among them, older than your years."

"I always was. Perhaps it runs in the family. Look at Adzriel, a khirnari already."

"Your eldest sister is a remarkable woman. Akaien i Solun was glad enough to hand the title to her as soon as she was of age. But be that as it may, the Iia'sidra will still perceive you as a stripling, and the queen as a fool for employing you as an emissary."

"If I've learned anything among the Tir, it's the value of being underestimated."

"Some might interpret that as a lack of honor."

"It's better to lack the semblance of honor but possess it than to possess the semblance and lack the honor."

"What a unique point of view," Riagil murmured, surprising Seregil with a smile. "Still, it has its merits. Adzriel brought favorable news of you from Rhiminee. Seeing you today among your companions, I believe her hopes are justified."

He paused, his face serious again. "You are a sort of two-edged blade, my boy, and as such will I employ you. Gedre has slowly withered since the Edict was imposed, like a vine whose roots are cut. It is the same for Akhendi, who shared in the trade through our

port. Klia must succeed if we are to survive as we are. Trade with the north must be reestablished. Whatever the Iia'sidra decides, let your princess know what Gedre will support her cause."

"She has no doubt of that," Seregil assured him.

"Thank you. I shall sleep more peacefully tonight. Let me leave you with this." Riagil drew a sealed parchment from his belt and handed it to him. "It is from your sister. Welcome home, Seregil i Korit."

Seregil's throat tightened painfully at the sound of his true name. Before he could reply, Riagil tactfully withdrew, leaving him alone with the soft rustle of the kites.

He rubbed a thumb over the tree and dragon imprint in the wax, imagining his father's heavy seal ring on his sister's slender finger. Prying the wax up with a thumbnail, he unfolded the sheet.

Adzriel had tucked a few dried wandril flowers into the letter. Crushing the faded red petals between his fingers, he inhaled their spicy scent as he read.

"Welcome home, dear brother," the letter began, "for so I address you in my heart even if it is forbidden elsewhere. My heart breaks that I cannot yet claim you openly as kin. When we meet, know that it is circumstance that prevents me, not coldness on my part. Instead, I thank you for undertaking this most painful and dangerous task.

"Asking for your inclusion was no sudden inspiration. The first glimmer of it was already in my mind during our all-too-brief reunion that night in Rhiminee. Aura's blessings on Nysander's poor
khi
that he told me of your true work. Take care for the safety of our kinswoman, and may Aura guard you until we embrace again at Sarikali. I have so much to tell you, Haba.—Adzriel"

Haba.

The tightness in his throat returned as he reread the precious letter, committing it to memory.

"At Sarikali," he whispered to the kites.

9

Into Aurenen

The sound of small wings woke Seregil the next morning. Opening his eyes, he saw a chukaree perched on the windowsill, its green plumage shining like Bry'kha enamel work as it preened its stubby tail. He willed it to drop a feather, but it had no gift for him today; with a liquid trill, it fluttered away.

Judging by the brightness of the window, they'd overslept. The distant jangling of harness warned that Beka's riders were already making ready to go.

Yet he lay quiet a moment longer, savoring the feeling of Alec's warm body still wound contentedly around his own, and the comfort of a proper bed. They'd made good use of it, he thought with sleepy satisfaction.

His fragile sense of peace slipped away all too quickly. The coat thrown carelessly over a chair caught his eye like an accusation, bringing with it the memory of Torsin's words and those of Riagil. As the khirnari had so succinctly pointed out, life among the Tir had forced him to grow up far more quickly than the friends he'd left behind. He'd known more of death and violence, intrigue and passion than most 'faie twice his age. How many of the youngsters he'd played with had killed anyone, let alone the uncounted numbers he had in his years as Watcher, thief, and spy?

He stroked the arm draped over his chest, smoothing the fine golden hairs. Most 'faie his age hadn't even left the family hearth yet, much less made such a bond with anyone.

Who am I?

The question, so easy to ignore all those years in Rhiminee, was staring him in the face now.

Sounds of morning activity grew louder outside their window. Sighing regretfully, he ran a finger down the bridge of Alec's nose. "Wake up, tali."

"Morning already?" Alec mumbled blearily.

"There's no fooling you, is there? Come, it's time to move on."

The central courtyard was filled with people and horses. Urgazhi and Akhendi riders were busy loading a string of packhorses; others were gathered around smoking braziers where Gedre cooks were serving a hasty breakfast. Nyal clearly had his hands full, Seregil thought, watching the man with growing dislike.