Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (80 page)

"Saying good-bye, my friends?" he whispered gratefully.

Tossing the grapple on the bed, he replaced the tile, then stripped to breeches and a dark tunic for the night's work.

Next, he placed Thero's bit of molded wax under the covers and whispered, "Otter."

A familiar form took shape under the blankets, and he found himself staring down at his own death mask. He lacked the magic to give the simulacrum the semblance of life, so he made do by turning it onto its side and arranging the limbs in a more natural pose. The feel of the cold, unnatural flesh made his skin crawl. It was like playing with his own corpse.

Just pray no one comes in to check on me,
he thought as he headed out to the balcony.

The clink of metal on tile sounded dangerously loud as he set the hook on the edge of the roof. His bitten hand ached as he climbed, but the pain was nothing compared to the mix of fear and exhilaration that claimed him as he gained the roof. He felt like a child again, sneaking out to ride beneath the stars; or the Cat, nightrunning across the best roofs of Rhiminee. Either way, he was himself in a way he hadn't been for months—years maybe—and it felt damn good.

His feet remembered the secret way down the disused staircase at the back of the house to a certain landing that overhung the garden wall.

Alec stepped out of the deep shadows to his right as soon as he dropped to the ground. Without a word they set off together, a double shadow against the darkness.

"That was quite a performance you gave at the Iia'sidra," Seregil said when they were outside Bokthersa tupa. "Well done!"

Alec let out a derisive snort. "Oh, so you like me sounding like a clinging little rentboy, do you?"

"Is that the effect you were aiming for? "

"Bilairy's Balls, Seregil, you caught me off guard and I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind." Alec hunched his shoulders miserably. "I can hardly look Korathan in the eye."

Seregil chuckled. "I doubt it lowered his opinion of you much."

Akhendi tupa was quiet tonight. Keeping to side streets, they skirted the few taverns that were still open and reached the khirnari's house unseen.

With the aid of Seregil's grapple, they scaled the back wall and crept to the edge of the roof overlooking the gardens below. Judging by the darkened windows, the household had gone to bed.

They climbed down and followed a path between banks of flowers. Passing the bower where they'd last seen Amali, they saw that the door leading into the khirnari's bedchamber stood open.

Alec started toward it, but Seregil reached to stop him. There was no mistaking the soft rustle of a silk robe close by.

"I thought you might come, Exile."

They both crouched as a soft mage light winked into being in a nearby corner of the garden. It glowed in the hollow of Rhaish i Arlisandin's palm, just bright enough to illuminate the khirnari's lined face and the arms of the chair where he sat. Raising his other hand to view, he sipped from a clay wine cup, then set it down on a little table at his elbow.

"Please join me," he said, waving them closer. "You have nothing to fear from me now."

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting too long, Khirnari," Seregil countered, searching the shadows suspiciously. Having a light in his face made it harder to see.

"I spend most of my nights here. Sleep is not the friend it once was," Rhaish replied. "I watched you both the day you searched Ulan's house, and again today, as you cobbled together what you think I have done. You may have your mother's face, Seregil, but you possess your father's will, stubborn as iron."

Something in the man's manner sent a chill through Seregil, making his right palm itch for the grip of a sword. Yet Rhaish made no move, gave no signal, just reached again for his wine cup and drank deeply.

"I know you did those things," Alec said. "But I don't understand how you could. Torsin trusted you; we all did."

"You are a good man, young Alec, but you are not Aurenfaie. You

don't know what it is to wear the sen'gai of your ancestors, or to stand by and watch the land they walked die. No sacrifice is too great."

"Except Amali?" Seregil asked.

The old man grimaced, then said hoarsely, "She bears my only son, the carrier of my name. What she did, she did in ignorance. The fault is mine and I bear the blame. You might convince the Iia'sidra of her guilt in time, but you would be convincing them of a lie."

He reached into his robe and took out a simple woven bracelet with a blackened charm. His hands were trembling now, making the shadows jitter. "This belonged to Torsin i Xandus. It will prove your claim against me. Let it end there and justice is served."

A spasm of some sort gripped him then, and he clenched the fist holding the bracelet. The mage light still cradled in his other palm flared and flickered.

"Oh, no," Seregil gasped.

The shadows slewed again as Rhaish placed the bracelet on the table and shifted the light to his other hand. Its glow fell across the second cup that had been hidden before, and the small nosegay that lay next to it.

He heard Alec's sharp intake of breath as the younger man recognized the clusters of bell-shaped blossoms. "Wolfbane," he whispered, giving them their Tir name.

"Not cups. Bowls. It's dwai sholo," said Seregil. "This amounts to an admission of guilt."

"Yes," Rhaish gasped. "I considered using the apaki'nhag venom, but feared it might confuse the issue. I want no confusion." Another spasm shook him, Gritting his teeth, he pulled off his sengai and let it fall beside his chair. "The guilt is mine, and I bear it alone."

"Do you swear that by Aura's Light?' asked Seregil.

"I do. How could I ask anyone else to partake of such dishonor, no matter how necessary?" He stretched out a hand to Seregil and he took it, kneeling before the dying man.

"You'll make them believe?' Rhaish whispered. "Let my death absolve the name of Akhendi, and take all dishonor."

"I will, Khirnari," Seregil replied softly. The man's fingers were already icy. Leaning closer, Seregil spoke quickly. "I was right, wasn't I, about Klia's poisoning being an accident?"

Rhaish nodded. "Nor did I intend harm to the Haman. Silly girl— talia. Though I should—" He gagged, then drew a labored breath. The mage light still cupped in his palm was failing. "I should like to

have bested Ulan, the old schemer, and beaten him at his own game for once. Aura forgive—"

A spate of sour bile burst from the old man's mouth, staining the front of his robe black in the moonlight. He shuddered violently and fell back in his chair. The mage light went out.

Seregil felt the fleeting tingle of the departing khi as the cold hand went limp. "Poor old fool." The silence of the garden seemed to thicken into something more ominous, and he lowered his voice to a cautious whisper. "He had too much atui to be good at murder."

"Atui?" muttered Alec. "After what he did?"

"I don't excuse it, but I understand."

Alec shrugged and reached for the bracelet. "At least he gave us what we need.

"No, don't touch it. All this?" He gestured at the bracelet, the clay bowls, the cast-off sen'gai. "It's as good as any confession. They don't need us for that. Come on, let's go back before we're missed."

But Alec remained where he was, staring down at the dead man's slumped form. Seregil couldn't see his face, but heard a tremor in his voice when he said at last, "That could be you, if Nazien has his way."

"I'm not going to run away, Alec." A fatalistic smile tugged at the corner of Seregil's mouth. "At least not until I'm certain I have to."

Alec said nothing more as they hurried back to Bokthersa tupa, but Seregil could feel his fear like a chilled blade against his skin. He wanted to reach out, offer some comfort, but had none to give, still driven by the stubborn resolve that had come to him in the mountains.

He wouldn't run away.

Back in Bokthersa tupa, they paused outside the guest house. Seregil searched for something to say, but Alec cut him off, grasping him fiercely by the neck and pressing his forehead to Seregil's. Seregil hugged him close, fighting rigid limbs to drink in his lover's warmth and comforting scent. "They're not going to kill me, Alec," he whispered into the soft hair pressed beneath his lips.

"They can." No tears, but such misery.

"They won't." Seregil pressed his wounded hand to his friend's cheek, letting him feel the pebbled rows of scabs. "They won't kill me."

Alec rocked his head hard against Seregil's shoulder, then pulled away and scaled the stable-yard wall without a backward glance.

55

Judgment

Returning to his too empty room, Alec lit all the lamps, wanting to drive off the shadow of his own dark thoughts. ,
  
Anything to block out the memory of that slumped figure, and the two bowls.

Caught between fear and anger, he threw together two small traveling packs, preparing for a quick escape if that's what it took to keep Seregil from a headlong plunge into self-destruction. Time and again he went out to the balcony, but his friend's dark window revealed nothing.

What is he thinking?
he raged silently, pacing again.

His own hopes and illusions mocked him now. He'd come to Aurenen to discover some part of his past, and Seregil's. Yet what had it come to? The revelation of his mother's sacrifice, the maiming of Klia, shame heaped on his friend, and now Seregil's inexplicable resolve to face the Iia'sidra.

Thero slipped in just then, looking as if he hadn't been to bed yet, either. "I saw your light. Were you successful?"

"After a fashion." Alec told him what they'd found, and how Seregil had chosen to leave things.

The wizard seemed satisfied with this turn

of events. "It's not over yet, my friend," he said, resting a hand on Alec's shoulder. "Sleep now."

Alec just had time to realize that this was a spell rather than a friendly suggestion before oblivion claimed him.

Alec awoke with the first hint of dawn creeping in through the balcony door. Pushing off the blanket Thero had spread over him, he changed clothes and hurried downstairs.

Noticing that Klia's door stood open, he stopped to check on her. Ariani was with her, talking softly to Klia as she brushed her dark hair. Both women looked up as he entered. He hadn't bothered with a mirror that morning, but the expression on the rider's face served well enough. Klia murmured something and Ariani withdrew, leaving them alone.

"How are you, my lady?" he asked, taking the chair next to the bed.

Her eyes were still deeply sunken, but her cheeks showed more color today. "A little better, I think," she whispered. "Thero told me—the others don't know yet. Rhaish—" Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down toward her ears. Alec blotted them with the end of his sleeve, then covered her good hand with his own. A healthy warmth radiated from her skin.

"Will it help us?" she whispered thickly, forcing the words out.

"Seregil thinks so."

"Good," she closed her eyes. "Don't give up. Nothing else matters now. Too far—"

"You have my word," Alec assured her, wondering if she understood what Seregil faced.

Better if she doesn't,
he decided. He pressed his lips to her hand. "Rest now, my lady. We need you back."

She didn't open her eyes, but he felt the slight, answering pressure of her fingers against his. The feel of it lingered against his skin as he continued on to the hall.

The others were there ahead of him. The room was crowded with Korathan's guard and Urgazhi Turma. Craning his neck, Alec spotted Korathan and Wydonis talking with Thero by the hearth.

"There you are," Beka said, emerging from the press. She looked nervous. "Are you ready?"

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Word just came from Adzriel. Rhaish is dead. It looks like you and Seregil were right."

"What are they're saying?" Alec asked, holding relief at bay.

Before she could answer, Thero waved him over. Leaving Beka to her preparations, he pushed past the soldiers and joined the prince and wizards in the small side chamber.

Korathan was sipping tea, the delicate Aurenfaie cup all but hidden in his large, callused hand. Regarding Alec over the rim, he said quietly, "You should have reported to me last night. I had to hear it from Klia's wizard today."

Alec met the man's pale gaze without flinching. "I'm sorry, my lord. I thought—"

"I'm not interested in what you thought. You didn't help the old bastard along, did you? "

"No, my lord," Alec reported. "We—I—" It was too late to wonder just what Thero had told him. "Seregil and I just went to spy. Rhaish i Arlisandin had already poisoned himself when we arrived. We just happened to be there."

Korathan gave him another long, unreadable look. "Is there anything else you've kept back that I should know about?"

"No, my lord."

"There'd better not be."

Setting his cup aside, Korathan turned to the others. "Since you all seem to know what my original orders were, let me make clear to you where we stand now. If Alec and Seregil hadn't brought the news they did, I'd have carried those orders out. I make no apologies for that. I'm the queen's brother, and the queen's man. However, I will confess relief at the way things have turned out. I only hope I can be as convincing as Seregil was that this is a wiser course of action. The best way to do that is to carry out the mission my mother gave you: secure that northern port, and establish a reliable source of horses, steel, and provisions. As Vicegerent of Skala, I will parlay for those as soon as we get this business with Seregil out of the way. I don't pretend to understand this Iia'sidra of theirs, or how they function without a ruler. I know only that Skala has no time to waste in idle palaver."