Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (48 page)

"But your cough—"

"Has been with me a good long time." Torsin shook his head firmly. "You know how I enjoy my quiet walks under the stars here. With today's decision . . ." He looked around sadly. "I shall miss Sarikali. Whatever the outcome, I doubt if any of us shall see it again."

"I'll be sorry if that is so, my lord," Beka said.

With a last bemused look at Thero, who was now coaxing a dragon-shaped pastry to life, the old envoy went to take leave of Klia and their host. Turning, Beka bumped into Nyal.

Weaving his fingers with hers, he raised her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I shall be very sorry to see you go. I've been thinking of nothing else since the vote was announced this morning. Our parting will be all the worse, knowing that you return to your war, talia."

It was the first time he had used the endearment, and the sound of it brought a rush of warmth to her heart and the sting of tears to her eyes.

"You could come with me." The words escaped before she could second-guess them.

"If they vote to lift the Edict, you could remain," he countered, still holding her hand.

The possibility hung between them for a moment, then Beka shook her head. "I can't abandon my command, or Klia. Not when every soldier is needed."

"This is what comes of loving a warrior." Nyal rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, studying the faded scars there.

"My offer stands." Searching those sad hazel eyes for an answer, she added in Aurenfaie, "Take what the Lightbearer sends and be thankful, tali."

Nyal chuckled softly. "That's a Bokthersan proverb, but I will reflect upon it."

Seregil and Alec moved through the labyrinthine house with their usual caution, but were soon satisfied that most of the household was busy in the main courtyard. The few people they encountered along the way, servants and trysting lovers mostly, were easily evaded.

"Does any of this look familiar?" Seregil asked.

"No, I was in the other wing."

Seregil had once known this sprawling house well. Wandering through familiar corridors and courts, he found his way at last to the khirnari's living quarters. The rooms faced a small courtyard encircled by banks of peony and wild rose. A pool at its center was stocked with large, silver fish.

"If we don't find the papers here, and quickly, we give up and go back," Seregil said, trying a door and finding it unlocked. "We've got to return before we're missed." He squinted at Alec in the dim moonlight. "You haven't smelled anything, have you?"

"Just the flowers."

Their search was made easier by the spare furnishings Ulan and his lady favored. Each room had what it needed to make it habitable, no more. Thick carpets softened the sound of their feet, but there were no tapestries, just airy silk hangings around the bed.

"Odd," Alec whispered, keeping a lookout at the door. "This is all of the best quality, but after what we've seen so far tonight, I'd have expected Ulan's tastes to be more elaborate."

"What does that suggest?" Seregil asked, poking through a clothes chest.

"That he doesn't care about material goods? That it's the power he craves, and displays of wealth like this gathering tonight are simply manifestations of his power?"

"Very good. There's more to him than that, though. He lives for his clan. Not that he hasn't made himself a great man in the process, but the power, the goods, trade, reputation? It's all for Viresse. That's the mark of a great khirnari."

He broke off, bent over a drawer in a small chest. "Look at this."

He flipped something bright at Alec, a new Skalan sester coin that had been cut in two.

"I bet I know what this is," he whispered, tossing it back. "Ulan sends sen'gai tassels. Torsin sends these."

"If you're right, then they've met at least five times." Seregil showed him more of the tokens. "What do you suppose Ulan is doing, keeping these close to hand? Now, what was I saying?"

"That Ulan is a great khirnari."

"Ah, yes. One of the greatest. That's why he opposes Klia, not because he dislikes her, or the Tir. If it had somehow benefited his clan to give Klia what she wants, we'd be home in Skala by now with his blessings. Ah, here's something else! Looks like a dispatch box." Seregil held it up. It was the right size, but utterly smooth, with no sign of a lock hole.

"I'm guessing what we're after is in here, if it still exists at all.

Either way, we're not getting our hands on it. This is held shut with magic."

"We should have brought Thero—" Alec broke off, hearing the sound of approaching footsteps. Hissing a quick warning, he ducked out of sight behind the door. Seregil rolled silently under the bed and Alec made a mental note; if he ever suspected intruders in Aurenen, that was the first place to look. Their unseen visitor paused a moment in the courtyard, then walked back the way he'd come.

"So much for your Bash'wai protector," Seregil complained, brushing dust from his coat as he emerged. "Not a whiff of 'em, eh?"

"I'm afraid not. What do you suppose that means?"

"Who knows, with the Bash'wai."

He moved to the sitting room off the bedchamber. After a few moments he emerged with a wrinkled sheet of parchment held triumphantly aloft. "This just might be of use," he whispered, examining it with the lightstone. "It's the beginning of a letter, but a large splotch of ink has spoiled the page after a few lines. He's not so fastidious as I thought, to leave this lying about."

Alec craned his neck for a look. "That's not Aurenfaie lettering."

"Plenimaran." Seregil's brows shot up as he scanned the first lines. "Well now, how small the world is sometimes. The salutation is to one 'honored Raghar Ashnazai.' "

"Ashnazai? Kin to Vargul Ashnazai?"

"Oh, yes. Plenimaran families are very close-knit, especially the powerful ones. Necromancers, spies, diplomats, influence peddlers; what a charming lot the Ashnazai must be around the supper table."

He replaced the parchment where he'd found it. "Well, it's better than nothing. At least we know whom he's dealing with. We'd better get back now. I imagine Thero's running low on tricks. They do require a sense of humor, after all."

Returning to the central courtyard, they parted ways and entered by different doors.

Apparently Seregil had been right about Thero, Alec thought, finding the wizard in conversation with a small group that included their host, Klia, and the khirnari of Khatme. Adzriel and Saaban were with them, too, and everyone looked decidedly tense. Lhaar a Iriel was actually shaking a finger at Thero.

"There you are," Klia muttered as he stepped in beside her. "Poor Thero could do with a bit of support."

"But I've seen Aurenfaie themselves use magic for innocent entertainment," the embattled wizard was saying. "I assure you, I meant no offense."

"Fools and children, perhaps," Lhaar a Iriel retorted sternly. "The power granted by Aura is a sacred thing, not to be toyed with."

"Is laughter not a gift of Aura, too, Lhaar a Iriel?" Ulan i Sathil asked, coming to his guest's defense.

"Indeed, I've spent a good many rainy afternoons doing such tricks for the children of my own household," Saaban added.

Alec stifled a grin. "Dear me, Thero, whatever have you been up to? " The wizard pointedly ignored him.

"Come now, this is my house and I declare no harm done," Ulan said. "We must be tolerant of one another's differences, must we not?"

The Khatme gave him a dark look and glided away.

Ulan winked at Thero. "Pay her no mind, Thero i Procepios. The Khatme are of a different mind on so many things. I am honored that you should exercise your talents for the benefit of my guests. I pray you do not let her harshness reflect insult on my house."

Thero bowed deeply. "If I have in any way repaid your magnanimous hospitality, Khirnari, then I am satisfied."

Alec remained with Thero as the rest of the group dispersed.

"I was actually enjoying myself, until the Khatme took me to task," Thero admitted. "You remember that trick Nysander had of making the wine jugs sing? I believe I carried it off rather well." Pausing, he slipped Alec the hand sign for "any luck?"

Alec nodded, then froze as the hint of a familiar scent tickled his nostrils.

"What is it?" Thero asked.

"I—I'm not certain." The smell of the Bash'wai, if that is what it had been, was already gone. Alec turned, sniffing the air.

"What are you doing?" Seregil asked with a bemused smirk, coming over to join them.

"I thought I smelled it again, just for a second," Alec murmured.

"Smelled what?" asked Thero.

"Some people see the Bash'wai. Alec claims to smell them," Seregil explained.

"It's like a heavy perfume," Alec said, still sniffing.

"Really?" Thero glanced around. "I'd be hard put to pick out a ghost here, what with all the other aromas."

"It could have been a Ykarnan." Seregil pointed out several people wearing black tunics and sea-green sen'gai. "They favor a very distinctive scent."

"You're probably right," Alec said. "Say, have any of you seen Lord Torsin? I expected him to be with Klia, but I don't see any sign of him."

"He left," Thero told him. "Left? How long ago?" Seregil asked. "It was just after you two went, I think." "Seregil, Alec!" Klia called, waving to them over the heads of the crowd. "Our host has asked you to play." Alec grinned. "Singing for our supper again? Just like old times."

29

Unexpected Death

Klia and the rest of the hunting party were already at breakfast by the time Alec reached the kitchen the next morning. Braknil's decuria had drawn the lucky straw, and Nyal was with them, chatting with Kheeta and Beka.

Heeding Nazien's advice, Klia had dressed in a military tunic and boots, a few Akhendi charms her only ornaments. Alec smiled to himself; in the soft light of the hearth, she looked like the carefree young soldier he'd first met beside a Cirna horse trader's corral.

"Have trouble finding your way out of bed again this morning, did you?" Beka chided good-naturedly, drawing a chuckle from a few of Braknil's riders, presumably those who'd been on sentry duty two nights earlier. Alec ignored her, giving his full attention to a plate of bread and sausage one of the cooks handed him. He'd made certain the balcony door had been tightly shut last night. "You should eat, my lady," Kheeta urged Klia, eyeing the barely touched plate balanced on her knee. "Old Nazien is likely to lead you halfway to Haman and back before dark."

"So I've been warned, but I'm afraid I haven't the stomach for food just yet," Klia replied, patting her belly ruefully. "It's a

sorry thing for a soldier to admit, but I must have drunk a bit past the point of wisdom last night. I still haven't mastered the wines of your country."

"I thought you looked poorly," said Beka. "Perhaps we should put off this hunt? I could send word to Nazien."

"It will take more than a sour stomach and sore head to make me miss this hunt," Klia said, nibbling a slice of apple without much enthusiasm. "Nazien is as good as won over, I'm certain of it. Time's running short and this day can buy us more goodwill than a week's debating."

She reached out and ran a finger through the collection of shatta dangling from Alec's quiver. "You've gamed with them, Alec. What do you say? Which will gain us the greatest favor: shooting very well or very poorly?"

"If we were at Rhiminee, I'd say the latter, my lady. Here, though, I'd say a show of skill is best."
            

"That would be best, if you want Nazien's respect," Nyal concurred.

Alec paused, considering his next question. "Are you sure it's wise for me to go? The Haman have made it clear that they don't like me any more than they do Seregil, and I wouldn't want to get in your way if you think they're coming around."

"Leave that to me," she replied. "You're a member of this delegation and a friend. Let them accommodate me for a change."

"You're also our best hunter," Beka added with a wink. "Let Emiel and his friends chew that one over!"

"How is Lord Torsin feeling this morning?" asked Nyal.

"Still asleep, I think," Klia replied. "I've ordered the servants not to disturb him. It's just as well, really. Another day's rest will do the poor fellow good."

Kheeta finished his meal and left, returning a short while later with news of the Hamans' arrival.

"Is Emiel i Moranthi with the khirnari today?" asked Klia.

"Yes, along with a dozen or so of his supporters," Kheeta told her. • "But Nazien has brought along a number of older kin, too."

Klia exchanged a bemused glance with Beka and Alec. "Shoot well, my friends, and smile nicely."

Nazien i Hari and a score of Haman awaited them on horseback in the street. Their black-and-yellow sen'gai looked fiercely vivid against the hazy morning sky, like the warning colors of a hornet.

All carried bows, javelins, and swords. The quivers of the young bloods of Emiel's faction were heavy with shatta.