Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (42 page)

Beka rose to attention."Do you wish me to announce the queen's death to my riders? "

"Yes. You're dismissed. Now, Seregil, what else must I do to satisfy Aurenfaie convention?"

"You'd better talk to my sisters. I'll fetch them."

"Thank you, my friend, we aren't bested yet. Now if you'll excuse us, I need a moment with Lord Torsin."

It's time we learned whether she knows of his meeting with Khatme,
Seregil thought, following the others out. As he turned to close the door, something on the floor next to the doorjamb caught his eye: a small, flattened clod of moist earth. Kneeling, he examined it more closely.

"What's that?" asked Thero, already halfway to the stairs.

"How old do you make this?" Seregil asked Alec.

Alec squatted down beside him and nudged at it with a forefinger. "Not more than a few minutes. The floor's still damp beneath it, and no sign of drying about the edges. It's come off somebody's boots." Picking it up, he sniffed it and took a closer look. "Horse manure, with bits of hay and oats stuck in it."

"Beka must have tracked it in," said Thero.

Alec shook his head. "No, she was already here when we arrived, and this is fresher than that. And I was standing near the door the whole time we were in there and would have heard if anyone walked by. This person didn't mean to be heard, and this bit of muck places him close to the wall next to the door—an eavesdropper for certain, one who came in through the stable yard."

"Or from it," Seregil muttered, inspecting the corridor floor and both stairways. "There are a few other smudges here, leading to the back stairs. Not an experienced hand, our visitor. I'd have taken off my boots, but our spy just clomped in trusting to luck."

"But how would anyone have known to come here just now?" asked Thero. "I went straight from my chamber to Klia's. No one could have known about Magyana's letter."

"Beka came in from the stable yard," Seregil pointed out. "Anyone taking note of the summons could have followed her in. The approach also suggests that whoever it was, he was either very bold, very foolish, or trusted that his presence in the house wouldn't be questioned if anyone saw him. Or her."

"Nyal!" Alec whispered.

"The interpreter?"Thero said incredulously. "You can't seriously think that the Iia'sidra would assign a spy to Klia's staff, especially one as inept as this one appears to have been?"

Seregil said nothing for a moment, recalling the conversation he and the Ra'basi had shared during his convalescence. Perhaps the painkilling draughts had skewed his judgment, but he hoped Nyal wasn't their spy; the irony of the realization forced a grin to his lips. Now it was Alec who seemed ready to believe Nyal guilty.

"This isn't the first time we've had cause to question his motives." Alec sketched out the details of the tryst they'd observed between Nyal and Amali outside the Dravnian way station.

"You didn't actually overhear what they were discussing?" asked Thero.

"No."

"That's unfortunate."

"Suspicion and conjecture," said Seregil. "We're still standing on smoke."

"Who else could it have been?" said Alec. "One of the guards or servants?"

"I don't think Beka or Adzriel would be pleased with that speculation."

"I'll add a few spells here," Thero said, glaring at the doorframe as if it had somehow betrayed him. "We'd better warn Klia."

"Later. She has enough to trouble her this morning," Seregil advised. "You and Alec attend the Iia'sidra as planned. I'll find out what our Ra'basi friend has been up to this morning."

Alec started upstairs to change, then turned back. "You know, Phoria trying to hide the queen's death like that makes me wonder just who our real enemies are."

Seregil shrugged. "I suspect we have plenty on both sides of the Osiat."

Alec hurried off, but Thero lingered a moment longer, his narrow face more serious than usual.

"Worried about Magyana?" asked Seregil.

"Phoria will know who sent us the news."

"Magyana understood the risks. She can look out for herself."

Thero turned in at his own door. "Perhaps."

Seregil stopped in the stable yard on his way to Adzriel's to inquire about Nyal's whereabouts and was relieved to find Beka nowhere in sight. Steb and Mirn were standing guard duty at the courtyard gate.

"How long have you been on duty? " he asked them.

"Since before dawn, my lord," Steb told him, rubbing at the patch over his blind eye as he stifled a yawn.

"Any visitors? Anyone go in or out of the house?"

"No visitors, my lord, and the captain was the first in the house this morning. Princess Klia sent for her. She told us about poor old Idrilain when she came back." The one-eyed rider paused, touching

his hand to his heart. "Since then most of us have been in and out of the kitchen for our breakfast, but that's about all."

"I see. By the way, have you seen Nyal this morning? I need to speak with him."

"Nyal?" said Mirn. "He went out riding not long after Captain Beka was summoned to the house."

"Right after? Are you sure?" asked Seregil.

"Guess her moving around woke him up." Mirn smirked, earning a quick elbow and a dark look from his comrade.

Seregil brushed this aside. "This morning, though, he went riding as soon as she went to the main house?"

"Well, not just that minute," Steb explained. "He stayed on to breakfast with us, then headed out. We saw him leave."

"I expect he'll be back soon. He always is," Mirn added.

"Then this isn't the first dawn ride he's made?"

"No, my lord, though more often than not the captain goes with him. That's what makes some folks think—"

"You tell them to keep .that sort of thinking to themselves," Seregil snapped.

In the barracks, he found Beka conferring with her three sergeants.

"Good, you're all here," Seregil said, joining them, "Seems we may have an eavesdropper in the house."

Mercalle looked up sharply. "What makes you think that, my lord?"

"Just a hunch," he replied. "Keep an eye on who enters the house. The upper floors are off-limits anyway, so there shouldn't be anyone going up there except Klia's people and the servants."

Beka gave him a look that said she suspected there was more behind his request than he was letting on, just the sort of quiet, questioning glance her father would have used.

Seregil gave her a nod, then let himself out the back gate and crossed to Adzriel's door.

Entering this early had a bittersweet familiarity about it. As a boy, he'd often slipped out to ride before dawn or stayed out all night with a gang of companions when he could get away with it. How many times, he wondered, had he and Kheeta sneaked in by a certain back door and crept like thieves up to their beds?

For a fleeting moment he was tempted to try it now and come sauntering down as if—

as if I belonged here.

Tucking this new bit of heartache away for later scrutiny, he knocked and was led to a room near the kitchen, where his sisters

and their household were just starting an informal breakfast. Another twinge struck as he took in the cozy family tableau.

Mydri was the first to notice him. "What's the matter, Seregil? What's happened?"

Adzriel and the others turned, hands poised motionless over their torn bread and boiled eggs.

"Our—your kinswoman, Idrilain, is dead," he informed them, glad of a plausible excuse for what must have been a very long face.

Alec took his place behind Lord Torsin and Thero in the Iia'sidra circle and looked around, only to find himself being watched in turn by the Viresse khirnari.

Already seated among his delegation, Ulan i Sathil gave Alec a cordial nod as their eyes met. Alec returned it and hastily looked away, making a show of greeting Riagil i Molan. People were already taking note of Klia's empty chair, and Adzriel's.

Brythir i Nien of Silmai leaned forward in his chair and peered across at Torsin. "Will Princess Klia not attend today?"

The ambassador rose with melancholy dignity. "Honored Khirnari, I bring tragic news. We have just received word that Queen Idrilain of Skala is dead, felled by wounds received in battle. Princess Klia begs your patience while she mourns."

Saaban i Irais stood. "Adzriel a Illia also sends her regrets. She and our sister Mydri must attend Klia to mourn the passing of our kinswoman."

Most registered regret or surprise at this news. Khatme was inscrutable, Viresse solemn. Rhaish i Arlisandin of Akhendi gazed stonily at the floor. Beside him, Amali looked stunned.

The Silmai khirnari pressed both hands over his heart and bowed to Torsin. "May Aura's light guide her khi. Please convey our great sorrow, Torsin i Xandus. Will the princess not return to Skala to mourn?"

"It was Idrilain's wish that her daughter stay until her mission among you here is accomplished. Princess Klia asks that you grant her four days to conduct the proper rites, after which she prays that our long debate may see a timely conclusion."

"Are there any Objections?" the old Silmai asked the assembly. "Very well, then we will gather again at the end of the mourning period."

Signs of mourning were already in evidence by the time Alec and the others returned to the guest house.

Following Skalan custom, the main entrance was sealed and hung with an inverted shield. Incense billowed up from a brazier set on the doorstep. Strings of Aurenfaie prayer kites also fluttered from poles set into the ground, and from the windows and roof.

A low, droning song greeted them as they entered the main hall by a side door; six rhui'auros stood in a circle at the center of the room, chanting softly.

Klia was with Seregil, Adzriel, and Mydri, putting the final touches on a large prayer kite. Nearby several Bokthersan servants were busy constructing others. It looked as if they meant to festoon the whole house with them.

"What news?" Klia asked as they entered.

"All is well, my lady," replied Torsin. "The council will resume in five days."

Seregil dismissed the servants, then asked, "And what were your impressions?"

"That the Viresse already knew," Alec told him. "I can't explain it; it was just the way Ulan i Sathil watched us as we came in."

"I think he's right," Thero agreed. "I didn't dare chance brushing Ulan's mind, but I briefly touched that of Elos of Golinil. There was no surprise, only thoughts of Ulan."

"You did what?" Seregil gaped at the wizard in dismay. "Didn't I tell you how dangerous that could be?"

Thero spared him an impatient glance. "You didn't think I was dozing through all those long sessions, did you? I've been making a study of the lia'sidra members. Ulan i Sathil and the khirnari of Khatme, Akhendi, and Silmai have the strongest aura of magic about them. I'm not certain what the full extent of their skills may be, but I've sense enough to stay clear of them. Most of the others are far more limited—Elos of Golinil in particular. If Ulan has a weak point, it's his daughter's husband."

"If they did know, then perhaps you're right about having a spy in the house," Klia noted, frowning.

Adzriel looked up sharply, her face as solemn as her brother's. "I chose the staff for this house myself. They are above reproach."

Seregil shook his head. "That's not who I was thinking of."

25

Nightrunning

Skalan mourning was an austere affair, and fires, hot food, alcohol of any sort, lovemaking, and music were all strictly abstained from. A single candle was allowed in each room at night. Should the soul of the departed visit any of its loved ones, there must be nothing to distract it from its journey.

This was new territory for Alec, whose Dalnan upbringing dictated a quick burning and ashes plowed into the earth. He'd seen death often enough since he'd come south with Seregil, but his friend was neither Skalan nor one to adhere to custom. When Thryis and her family had been murdered, Seregil had set the inn ablaze as a pyre and sworn vengeance on their murderer, a vow Alec had himself carried out when he strangled Vargul Ashnazai. Seregil's grief for Nysander's death had been too deep and silent for mere ritual to encompass. For a time he'd almost stopped living himself.

This time, however, Seregil willingly observed the abstentions, sitting with Klia through the interminable visitations. Alec sensed genuine sadness in his friend, although Seregil said little.

It was Beka who finally drew him out. The three of them had gathered with Thero in the

wizard's room on the second night, passing the time in desultory conversation.

Thero was weaving the shadows cast by the candle into fantastic shapes against the wall. Seregil remained unusually quiet as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out before him, chin on hand. Alec studied his friend's pensive face, wondering if Seregil was watching Thero's shadow play or lost to his own inner phantoms.

Beka suddenly nudged Seregil's foot with her own and raised her eyebrows in mock surprise when he looked up.