Shadows Return n-4 Read online

  Wethis answered Alec’s knock. The young servant had grown up since Alec had seen him last and was sporting the beginnings of a passable beard. “My lords! It’s good to see you. Master Thero and Mistress Magyana are waiting in the parlor downstairs.”

  Gone were the precipitous stacks of dusty manuscripts in the entry, and the jumbled wonders covering every flat surface. Everything was orderly and clean now, though evidence of Thero’s own work was everywhere visible in the neatly arranged books and papers, and the various crucibles simmering over little braziers. The freshly polished steel and brass astronomical instruments arranged on the walkway below the leaded glass dome gleamed. It was at once pleasant and sad, and Alec saw the same emotions warring in Seregil’s grey eyes as he looked around, taking it in for the first time.

  The painted parlor was less changed, if neater. The fine mural painted with monsters and marvels still ringed the room, and its innate magic still tugged at the eye, even though Alec knew what it was up to now. The overstuffed furnishings were the same, well-worn and comfortable.

  The wizards rose from their chairs by the fire as Wethis ushered them in. Magyana embraced them, her smile making the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth deepen and tilt. “So she’s finally found something for you to do, has she? Did she give you my message sticks?”

  Seregil took them from his coat and handed them to her. “You think she’s tampered with them?”

  “That would be very difficult.” Nonetheless, she examined each one closely. “Yes, these are mine, and still properly magicked. You should have no difficulty using them.”

  “Phoria must trust you to have you make these,” Alec remarked. “She doesn’t seem very fond of any wizards these days, especially those who knew Nysander.”

  “It was her brother who came to me.”

  “We thought you might like to have these, as well.” Thero reached into his sleeve and handed Seregil another set of sticks, similar in design, but painted different colors. “The yellow is for Gedre, and the green for Bôkthersa. The brown one is in case Klia does decide to defy her sister. The messages will come to me.”

  “Thank you. Alec, you hang on to these so we don’t get them mixed up. And I don’t think we want Captain Traneus to see us use them.”

  Magyana’s grey brows shot up. “That reptile? Watch out for him.”

  “That’s going to be difficult, seeing as how Phoria’s put him in charge of our escort.”

  “What the hell is going on, Thero?” asked Alec. “Why did Phoria call you and the turma back first, if she was going to call Klia back anyway? Does she really think Klia would betray her?”

  Thero waved them to seats by the hearth and poured the wine into the ornate crystal goblets. “I can’t say what was in the queen’s mind, of course, but it can’t have been lost on her that Klia has made a great many friends in Aurënen.”

  “Friends Phoria fears could turn to allies?” Seregil scoffed. “That’s an insult to Klia and the ’faie.”

  “It could be construed that way,” the wizard replied. “However, Prince Korathan indicated in his letters that Phoria is merely being cautious.”

  “Or the family mad streak is coming out,” Alec muttered.

  “Queen Phoria is not mad,” Magyana assured him. “She is a canny ruler, though, and a cautious one. I suspect that until Princess Klia bends her knee before her, that caution will prevail.”

  “How did Klia react to Urghazi Turma being taken from her?”

  “Phoria’s order indicated that Captain Beka Cavish is to prepare the rest of the regiment to receive their commander,” Thero replied.

  Seregil gave him a crooked grin. “Sounds like you became her close adviser, down there together for so long.” The grin widened a bit as a faint blush rose to color the young wizard’s cheeks.

  Klia- and Thero? Alec tried not to laugh, picturing those two as a couple.

  “So, what happened at the Palace after Phoria sent me out?” Thero asked, quickly composing himself. “I see you both have your heads on your shoulders.”

  Seregil quickly sketched out the situation, then turned to Magyana. “What can you tell me about this Traneus fellow?”

  “I’d never heard of him until Idrilain lay dying that terrible winter in Mycena, just before you two were sent off to Sarikali. After that, Phoria never seemed to be without him. He had been a corporal in her guard, then suddenly he was a captain, and a lord. He has a nasty habit of turning up like a stray cat anywhere someone voices support for anyone but her. He certainly had his eye on me then.”

  Alec sighed. “So much for her trusting us.”

  “It’s probably Klia he’s being sent to spy on, rather than us,” said Seregil. “And besides, we’ve nothing to worry about. We’re doing exactly what Phoria wants.”

  “The queen leaves nothing to chance, and she likes to hold all the cards,” Thero warned. “I’d have given you more warning, but she’s had me under watch since my ship came in yesterday. Did you get any of my letters?”

  “So you did write? No, not one,” Seregil replied. “Is Klia well?”

  “Oh yes, and well loved by your clan, and their allies.”

  “Do you think she’ll come back?” asked Magyana.

  Thero nodded. “Of course she will. She’s wanted nothing else since the Aurënfaie signed the accord. It’s been very difficult for her, getting news of the war but not being able to do anything.”

  The older wizard sighed. “Phoria has been very foolish, keeping such an able commander from the field.”

  “It looks like she finally figured that out,” said Seregil.

  “How’s Klia’s hand, Thero?” asked Alec.

  “It healed well.” During their diplomatic visit to Sarikali, an assassin’s poison had cost her two fingers on her right hand. “The poison caused no lasting damage but she has only limited use of it now.”

  “Did Phoria give you any idea what she has planned for you after you’ve done this?” asked Magyana.

  “No. I imagine she’s waiting to see if we actually obey.”

  “And?”

  “We will, of course. We’ve only just gotten settled in the new place. I’m not ready to be run out of town just yet. Not on her say-so, anyway. What about you, Thero? What will you do, without the Watchers to oversee?”

  “I have my own work. To be honest, I’m almost relieved. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Nysander kept me out of most of his Watcher business until those last few months.” He paused, one corner of his mouth tightening with a hint of lingering bitterness. “It was always you and Micum, coming and going mysteriously, and whispers behind closed doors.”

  “He did trust you,” Seregil assured him. “He wouldn’t have kept you with him if he didn’t. You were the best student he ever had.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Seregil reached over and squeezed his hand. “He told me so himself, many times. Don’t ever doubt it.”

  Thero managed a sad smile, then changed the subject, telling them of his time at Bôkthersa, and giving Seregil news of his family and friends.

  “Well, we should be getting back before Micum storms the prison looking for us,” Seregil said when Thero finished, rising to go.

  “Please give him my regards, and ask him to visit me here soon,” said Thero.

  “A safe journey to you,” Magyana said, pressing travelers’ charms into their hands.

  “And Watchers or no Watchers, I will keep a close eye on Rhíminee, and on Klia when you bring her back,” Thero promised.

  Seregil clapped him on the shoulder. “I hope we live to see such services welcome again.”

  CHAPTER 5 Lovers and Enemies

  AS THEY RODE back to Wheel Street, Alec finally asked the question that had been niggling at him for days now. “Why does the queen dislike you so much?”

  Seregil gave him a smile that was patently false and shrugged. “Who knows why Phoria does anything?”

  Alec sensed the evasion but gues
sed this was something Seregil didn’t want to talk about in public, so he let it go until they reached the house. Micum and Kari were waiting anxiously for them, as expected, and Seregil soon put their minds at rest. He waited until Kari and the girls went off to the kitchen to see about the midday meal before telling Micum of Phoria’s orders regarding the Watchers.

  “That vindictive woman!”

  “What are you complaining about? I thought you were well out of all that, sitting by the hearth with your babes playing around your feet.”

  “I don’t know,” Micum mused sadly. “I’ve always thought I might have another journey or two in me. To be honest, I get a bit restless sometimes, missing the old days. With you two back, and now Thero, I thought maybe…” He tapped his boot with the tip of his cane. “I might not be able to cover so much ground on foot anymore, but I can ride as well as ever, and there’s nothing wrong with my sword arm.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” said Seregil. “We’ll miss you, you know, but I don’t think I dare go back and ask Phoria if you can go with us.”

  Micum laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask you to put your head in the bear’s mouth again so soon, anyway. There’s all the winter planting and work to be done, and I wouldn’t feel right, leaving it all to Kari.”

  “It never used to stop you,” Seregil pointed out.

  Micum glanced over at Kari, who’d come back with Gherin in her arms and Luthas swinging from her skirts. “Well, maybe it should have.”

  The morning ride had cleared Alec’s head, but the night’s rest had been too short. They shared a late breakfast with the Cavishes, then retired upstairs to sleep a little while Runcer began packing for their journey.

  Seregil kicked off his boots and stretched out on top of the coverlet with his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes.

  Alec lay down beside him, head propped on one hand, and shook him by the shoulder. “So are you going to tell me the real reason you and Phoria don’t like each other or not? I’ve hardly seen you two together, but when you are, it’s like two tomcats in an alley. I think it’s more than just the Leran business.”

  Seregil threw an arm across his eyes. “Later, talí. I’m exhausted!”

  “No. Now.”

  Seregil said nothing, and just when Alec began to suspect that he was pretending to be asleep, Seregil sighed deeply. “It goes back long before your time, or Thero’s. And it’s more a matter of her hating me. I don’t care much about her at all.”

  “But why?” Alec pressed. “Klia likes you, and Prince Korathan, too.”

  Seregil let out a wry little snort. “Ah, well, you’ve hit on it, haven’t you?”

  “Korathan? Why would Phoria care if her brother likes you? Is she jealous?”

  “Mmm.”

  Alec recognized another evasion. He poked Seregil in the shoulder again. “So?”

  “Let it go, Alec. It’s long past.”

  Once upon a time, Alec would have obeyed. “Tell me!”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Obviously.”

  Seregil dropped his arm and rubbed a hand over his face. “All right then. Korathan and I? We were lovers.”

  Alec gaped at him. This was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Really?”

  “We were both very young and it didn’t last long. Phoria caught us together and that was the end of it. But she’s never forgiven me.”

  Alec was still trying to take it in. “You? And Korathan?”

  “I warned you that you wouldn’t like it.”

  Alec stretched out beside Seregil, leaving a little more space between them than usual. It had always been difficult, knowing that Seregil had bedded hundreds of men and women before he’d come along-and more after, too, for that matter. It was harder still when he learned their names and faces, and that so many of them, like Lady Kylith or the courtesan Eirual, were still good friends. And now it was Prince Korathan, whom Alec had always admired.

  “When was this?”

  Seregil stared up at the gauzy silk canopy. “Not long after I came to court. Korathan was always very kind and I was still reeling from-well, you know.”

  Ilar í Sontir, thought Alec. Seregil always had a hard time speaking of the seducer who’d cost him his family, his name, and his homeland. Alec had stored the name and the story in his heart, the one time Seregil had told him the sordid tale. He looked over at Seregil, gauging the worry in his lover’s grey eyes.

  “Why did Phoria care if you two were-together?” he asked at last.

  “Because she’s owned her brother from the womb. Twins often have a strong bond. And some a bit too strong, if you take my meaning?”

  “You’re not serious!”

  Seregil shrugged. “Rumors have been floating around for years. And neither of them have ever married, have they?”

  “But she had Lord Barieus as a lover. She mourned him like a husband when he died.”

  “True, but he’s the only one I know of. Korathan doesn’t always sleep alone, but from what I’ve heard, never with anyone who matters. No, he’s devoted his whole life to Phoria and will until he dies.”

  “So she hates you for something that happened, what, almost forty years ago?”

  “If there’s one thing Phoria excels at, talí, it’s holding a grudge.”

  Seregil was relieved when Alec finally let the subject drop, but it was some time before he could get to sleep. He hated that singular sort of silence Alec pulled around himself when the subject of Seregil’s previous liaisons came up. Alec was normally the most reasonable and easygoing of men; but on this one topic he always grew troubled, though he wouldn’t say much about it. All Seregil could do was avoid the subject. He made no apologies for his past, but he hated causing Alec pain. He wanted nothing more right now than to pull the stubborn young man into his arms and apologize, but Alec had turned his back and seemed to be asleep.

  Seregil lay awake a long time, watching the sun slowly pass across the window.

  Far across the Osiat, the khirnari of Virésse sat on his balcony, enjoying a late breakfast with his eldest daughter as he watched that same sunlight dance on the waves in the harbor below. There were fewer ships there these days, and fewer still that hailed from Skala. The three great merchantmen at anchor near the harbor mouth flew the standards of Plenimaran houses; that land had always been a good friend to Virésse.

  Ulan í Sathil was an old man and not easily startled. He didn’t flinch when a tiny, pale green orb of light suddenly winked into existence inches from his face. He recognized the bit of Orëska magic, but not the sender’s color.

  “Would you excuse me, my dear?” he said.

  “Of course, Father.” Saliana withdrew, used to her father’s ways. She could be trusted to say nothing of the odd messenger.

  Ulan reached out one long finger and touched the spark, marveling as always that it had neither heat nor any form. He might not know the sender, but he knew the voice that spoke the message as the light disappeared.

  “I have watched and waited as you instructed, Uncle. I have it from the lips of one in the great palace that the golden prize flies south to Gedre tomorrow, on lark’s wings, and with him the nameless one.”

  “Ah, I knew you could not long keep away,” Ulan murmured. He went to the balcony door and shook awake the young page dozing on his stool.

  “Wake up, Mikiel, I have a task for you. Go to the house of Kiran Ashnazai and tell him to come to me at once.”

  “What shall I say, Khirnari?” the boy asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “Tell him that our wait is at an end.”

  He returned to the balcony, and the view of his half-deserted harbor, smiling to himself. “Two birds with one arrow. This will be most satisfying.”

  Supper was a subdued affair that night. After the dishes were cleared away Seregil brought out his harp and he and Alec sang for their friends. He watched Micum and Kari from the corner of his eye
as he played a favorite love ballad. They sat close together on the settle, hands clasped, Kari leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. The firelight caught the glints of silver in their hair and shadowed the lines on their faces, but Seregil could still see in them the young lovers he’d known.

  The price of exile, he thought. They’d all be dust before he grew old, if he lived out his span. He wondered how Nyal was going to cope, watching Beka age so quickly. He played on until the two little ones were asleep in their parents’ laps and Illia was dozing against Alec’s knee.

  “That’s enough for now,” he whispered, setting the harp aside. “We’ve packing to finish and we’ll be off before any of you are up.”

  “Luck in the shadows to you,” Micum murmured.

  Seregil managed a smile though his heart suddenly felt heavy. “And in the Light.”

  As they pottered about their room, deciding what to take and what to leave, Alec glanced up at his black bow on its peg on the wall and his battered old quiver beside it. The latter was still decorated with dozens of small, oddly carved charms hanging from long rawhide laces and made of everything from wood to chalcedony. They were shatta-betting prizes he’d won from Aurënfaie archers during their last visit.

  “Planning to add to your collection?” Seregil asked.

  Alec took down the bow and ran his hands over the dark limbs. “I doubt I’ll have much time for that, this trip.”

  “True. Still, you might get in a challenge or two, at Bôkthersa.” He gave Alec a wink. “Besides, I always feel safer when you have that along.”

  They rose before dawn and came down by candlelight to find Micum dressed and waiting.

  “Having second thoughts about coming with us?” Seregil asked.

  “Perhaps just a little.” Micum chuckled, but there was no missing the longing in his eyes. “I’ll ride with you to the quay. I figured you’d need someone to take your horses back for you.”