Luck in the Shadows

30 Down to Business At Last

By nightfall, suitable explanations regarding the previous night's disturbances had been carefully spread among Alben's Hind Street neighbors.

The forger, chastened and anxious to be of service, was temporarily reinstalled in his shop under strict but indiscernible supervision.

An icy drizzle misted down, making for a clammy vigil. Seregil stationed Micum on watch in the alley beneath Alben's window, while Alec monitored the street fronting the building.

Seregil took up his own position in the shadows of the courtyard.

As the hours dragged by, he noted grudgingly that he seemed to mind the cold less in Thero's body.

The man's night vision was rather poor, however, and his sense of taste was hopeless. Overall, Seregil

reflected, the habitation of another person's body was nothing to be taken lightly. In fact, there was something rather obscene about it; he couldn't scratch without feeling like he was taking liberties, and trips to the privy were decidedly disquieting. It was, he concluded, rather like being forced into bed with a lover you didn't fancy. And it was certainly closer contact with Thero than he ever hoped to experience again. What Thero might be experiencing in his body he didn't care to speculate.

He was just wondering if he dared risk a stretch when he caught the sound of rapid footsteps from the street. Striding into the courtyard, a cloaked figure rapped softly at Alben's door. The apothecary answered at once, lighting the visitor into the darkened shop with a candle. In the instant both men were framed in the doorway, Seregil got a clear look at the newcomer-a well— dressed man of middle years. In spite of his clothing, however, the unconscious bob of the head he gave Alben in greeting betrayed him; this was a servant out of livery for the purpose of the evening's assignment.

Alben hung back for an instant, giving the candle a slight sideways jerk before he closed the door.

This was the signal. Creeping silently to the courtyard gate, Seregil passed it on to Alec.

He was about to resume his hidden position when he heard the rattle of Alben's latch. Caught in the open, Seregil made a show of heading up one of the tenement stairways. The emissary seemed unconcerned at being observed, even nodding to him as they passed in the yard.

Seregil waited a slow count of five after the man left the courtyard, then slipped out to see which way he'd gone. Alec motioned to the left. Micum had already been signaled, and together the three set off in pursuit.

Their man sauntered along at his ease for a few streets, then went into a tavern.

"You'd better go in. He's already had a glimpse of me," Seregil whispered to Micum. Nodding, Micum sized the place up, then sauntered in.

Micum Cavish had a particular aptitude for blending into tavern crowds. Settling near the door, he ordered a pint and kept a surreptitious eye on their quarry.

The fellow sat alone near the hearth, slowly nursing a mug of ale as if waiting for someone.

Presently a young servant woman joined him.

Sitting down with her back to Micum, she greeted her companion with a heartfelt kiss. Though Micum saw nothing amiss, it was certainly the perfect opportunity for a parcel of some sort to change hands. A moment later the pair left together.

Strolling out behind them, Micum loitered a moment under a street lantern and made a show of adjusting his cloak as he noted the direction the couple took. Alec and Seregil ghosted off in silent pursuit, and he followed.

The couple walked along arm in arm, heads together, to a small fountain circle where they suddenly disappeared down a dark side way.

Hurrying to catch up, Micum nearly fell over his friends crouched at the mouth of an alley. From beyond

came the muffled but unmistakable sounds of a hasty coupling in progress.

Leaving Alec on guard, Seregil and Micum went back to the fountain for a whispered conference.

"What do you think? Did he pass anything to her?" asked Seregil.

"He could have, but I didn't see it happen." Micum jerked a thumb in the direction of the alley.

"Given this business, we can't be sure the girl's in on anything, or if they're just lovers."

"Damn! We'd better watch both of them.

They're certain to part ways sooner or later."

"You take her," said Micum. "Alec and I will stay on him. I'll meet you back at Nysander's."

A few moments later the sighing lovers reappeared and continued on in the direction of the Noble Quarter.

There were more lanterns as they went on, and a good deal more traffic; Seregil and the others spread out so as to be less conspicuous.

They nearly came to grief at the Astellus Circle. The Street of Lights was alive with activity, and the Circle was crowded with patrons coming and going from the various establishments.

Slipping through the crowd, Seregil suddenly lost sight of the lovers. A few yards away, he saw Alec casting around in alarm. A sharp whistle brought them both around. Standing on steps of the colonnade, Micum gestured in two directions at once.

Seregil caught a quick glimpse of the girl heading off down Eagle Street by herself. Trusting the man to Alec and Micum, Seregil hurried after her.

He had no problem keeping her in sight. There was enough activity in the street to cover his pursuit and she seemed to have no qualms about her own safety as she strode past the walled gardens of the villas.

Eagle Street ended in Silvermoon and she turned left toward the Palace. As he reached the Queen's Park, Seregil began formulating a plan for following her onto the grounds. Instead, however, she ducked down a side lane to the servants entrance of a grand house across the broad avenue from the Park.

Seregil waited until he was certain she wasn't coming out again, then returned to the street. With a growing sense of foreboding, he scowled up at the gilded bulls rearing protectively over the gates of the eminent and all-too-familiar residence.

Alec and Micum dogged their man through a succession of fashionable avenues to a house in the Street of Three Fountains, which was not far from Wheel Street.

Unlocking a side gate, he disappeared into a fashionable villa.

"One of us should go in," Alec whispered. "The other can stand watch in case anything goes wrong."

"I guess we both know who's better at that sort of thing. Go on."

Scaling the wall, Alec dropped down into the garden. The layout of the place was similar to Seregil's house, but on a larger scale. The garden surrounded the house on three sides, and there were an encouraging number of windows overlooking it.

Keeping an eye out for dogs and watchmen, he crept forward.

Starting at the right side of the building, he worked his way from window to window, pulling himself up by the sills to peek in. Most of the rooms were dark or unoccupied, except for a salon toward the front where two pretty young women sat before a blazing hearth. One was working at an embroidery frame while her companion plucked listlessly at a lyre.

Leaving off, he gave the kitchen door a wide berth and set to work on the left side of the house, though with no more success than before. He was about to give up when he noticed a faint glow of light from a balcony just overhead. The ornate stonework surrounding a first-floor window afforded ample fingerholds. Climbing up, he eased himself over the balustrade. There was a small table on the balcony. Two wine cups stood there, and a warm pipe.

The balcony door had been left ajar; peering in, Alec discovered an elegantly appointed bedchamber lit by a single lamp. Another door stood open across the room, and through it came the sounds of a heated argument. There were two male voices involved, one strident with anger, the other shrill in its protestations of innocence.

"How can you accuse me of such a thing?" the higher voice demanded.

"How can you look me in the face and deny it?" boomed the other. "You greedy, bungling idiot. You've destroyed me! You have destroyed this family!"

"Uncle, please."

"Never let me hear that word in your throat again, you viper!" shouted the other. "From this day forth you are no kin of mine."

A door slammed forcibly, and Alec shrank back as a young man entered the bedchamber and collapsed into a chair. His elaborate surcoat showed him to be the master of the house. He was fair-skinned, with a small blond chin tuft that he fingered nervously as he sat. A nagging tingle of recognition stirred in the back of Alec's mind as he studied the haggard profile. He couldn't immediately place the man, but he felt certain he'd seen him before.

The man was clearly agitated. Gnawing at a thumbnail, he lurched to his feet again, then beat a fist against one thigh as he paced up and down the room.

The significance of the balcony table occurred to Alec almost too late. The man swerved suddenly, heading out to settle his nerves with wine and tobacco. Clambering back over the railing, Alec caught hold of two carved balusters and hung by his fingers. The evening drizzle had thickened to sleet and the polished marble felt slick as lard in his hands as he clung doggedly on, feet dangling twenty feet above the ground. Glancing sideways, he saw that he could probably reach the cornice of the downstairs window

with his left foot but he didn't dare chance the noise. To make matters worse, his side of the balcony overlooked the street; it would be the most natural thing in the world for the man to lean on the railing just there, glance down.

Looking up, Alec could see the side of the man's silken slipper less than a foot from his rapidly whitening knuckles. Cold fire ached down through his wrists and arms, weakening his grip, numbing his fingers.

Melting sleet trickled down over his face and ran down his sleeves into his armpits. Biting his lip, he gripped the posts harder, scarcely daring to breathe.

Just when it seemed he'd have to chance dropping and running, a knock came at the chamber door.

Tappng his pipe out on the railing above Alec, the man disappeared back into the room.

Alec shook the hot ashes from his hair and found a foothold on the window cornice. Bracing his shoulder in the angle of the balcony, he flexed his stiffened fingers. The balcony door had been left open again and he could hear the conversation inside quite clearly.

"Any difficulty with Alben?" This was the nobleman, calmer now and speaking with authority.

"Not exactly, my lord," replied the newcomer.

"Though he didn't seem quite himself, somehow. But I did get the documents and these, as well, while I was out."

"Well done, Marsin, well done!"

Alec heard the metallic clink of coins changing hands.

"Thank you, sir. Shall I deliver it now?"

"No, I'll go. My horse is already saddled. See to it that the house is locked up for the night and inform Lady Althia that I'll be returning tomorrow."

"I will, sir, and a good evening to you."

Alec heard the servant leave, and a moment later the light was extinguished. Climbing down, he hurried back to the street in time to see a man galloping out the front gate on a white horse.

"We're losing him!" he exclaimed as Micum appeared out of the shadows beside him. "I think he's off to deliver the forged letters!"

"Deliver them where?" Micum asked, scanning the neighborhood for quickly obtainable horses. There were none.

"I don't know," Alec replied in an agony of impatience. The rider had already disappeared around a corner and the sound of hooves was fading rapidly.

"Damn it, now we've lost him!"

"Can't be helped. At least we've got a connection to work with and that's a start. And you'll never guess

who else came riding out of that gate a short while ago."

"Who?"

"Only the Lord Viceregent himself. You should have seen him! I didn't know the old fellow could ride like that."

"Barien?" Alec's eyes widened as a memory snapped into place. "Maker's Mercy, that's it! This is Lord Teukros' house. The Viceregent's nephewl I knew I'd seen him before, that day I rode around the Ring."

"The nephew, eh? By the Flame, that looks bad-though I can't imagine Barien mixed up in anything disloyal to the Queen!"

"He was cursing Teukros when I first got there," Alec told him. "He called him a viper and disowned him."

"Well, that's a strike in the old man's favor. Come on, we'd better go let the others know."

Still smarting over the loss of Teukros, Alec was in a dour mood by the time he and Micum reached Nysander's door.

"Good hunting?" the wizard inquired, letting them into the workroom.

"In a manner of speaking," Micum replied.

"Is Seregil back?"

"No, he was up to something in the vicinity of the Palace when I last checked. Come downstairs and warm yourselves. You both look quite damp."

Standing before the sitting room fire, Alec carefully recounted their evening's work. Nysander made no effort to hide his dismay over what they'd learned and sat silently for some moments after he'd finished.

"What do you think?" Alec ventured. "Could Barien be mixed up in something like this?"

"It is difficult to imagine. Young Teukros is another matter, however. In spite of his obvious wealth, Teukros i Kallas is not known for his perspicacity. Whatever his involvement in this, I would wager that he is acting at the direction of another."

"We'd have found out if we could have followed him tonight," grumbled Alec.

"Patience, dear boy. It should not be difficult to obtain that information. You said Lord Teukros' pretty wife is at home tonight?"

"Yes, but we can't just knock on the door and ask her."

"Of course we can! What do you say, Micum?

An urgent message carried by a servant of the Orлska House, one which must be delivered into Lord

Teukros' hands at all costs this very night?"

Micum grinned wolfishly. "That should do the trick."

Going to his desk, Nysander quickly penned a cordial dinner invitation for the following evening.

"What happens when he shows up for dinner?" asked Alec, peering over the wizard's shoulder.

Nysander chuckled darkly. "Assuming that he does, I shall be afforded an opportunity to give closer attention to this enterprising young spy." Sealing the missive with an impressive array of ribbons and wax seals, Nysander sent Wethis off to deliver it.

Seregil arrived soon after. He was smeared with mud, and sported torn breeches and a ragged scrape across the back of one hand.

"Illior's Eyes, Seregil, what have you been doing with poor Thero's body?" asked Nysander, handing him a clean robe.

"You'd think he could at least climb a garden wall!" Seregil said in disgust, shucking the filthy breeches off to show them an angry bruise on one of Thero's pale, hairy knees. "Never mind that, though. Micum, Alec, you'll never guess where our little serving maid led me! Straight to the house of the Viceregent."

He paused. "What? What is it? Neither of you look very surprised."

"That's because our man led us to Teukros' villa,"

Micum informed him. "Alec overheard him and his uncle having quite an argument."

"The man we followed tonight was Teukros' servant, by the name of Marsin. He brought the forged documents to Teukros," said Alec. "Then Teukros took off on horseback to deliver them, but we don't know where. Nysander's sent Wethis off to find out."

"I hope he does," said Seregil. "That brat Teukros certainly can't be at the bottom of anything like this! Incidentally, Barien came home after you saw him. I hung around to make certain the girl wasn't coming out again and saw him arrive. Anyway, a few minutes later a messenger goes across to the Queen's Park gate and tells the guards there he has a message for the Princess Royal. This same messenger is out again a few minutes later with someone wrapped up in a dark cloak and hood. I couldn't see her face, but it was Phoria; I know that stiff-legged stride of hers. I went over the wall to see what was up-that's when I fell-but I couldn't get a look at them."

He was interrupted by Wethis, who'd returned from his errand.

"Lord Teukros wasn't home to receive the message," the young servant reported. "Lady Althia says he's gone out to Lady Kassarie's estate and isn't expected home until tomorrow afternoon. Shall I ride out?"

"That is not necessary, Wethis, thank you. I shall not be needing you again tonight."

Micum raised a skeptical eyebrow as Wethis went out. "Kassarie? What would she want with a strutting cowbird like Teukros?"

"They have some common shipping interests, I believe," said Nysander.

"How interesting if Kassarie was mixed up in all this," Seregil speculated, looking pensive. "She's rich, powerful, and fairly influential among the more conservative nobles. To my knowledge she's not part of the Queen's inner circle, but—"

"Who's Kassarie?" asked Alec.

Seregil steepled his fingers before him in a manner that generally presaged one of his encyclopedic recitations. "Lady Kassarie a Moirian is the head of another of Skala's oldest families. Like Barien, she can trace her lineage back to the Hierophantic migration. And, I should add, without a drop of foreign blood sullying her august veins. Her ancestors made their fortunes in stonework at Ero, and prospered again providing Queen Tamir with stone and masons to build her new capital. Her estate lies up in the mountains about ten miles or so southeast of the city."

Nysander rose to pace the small room. "Be that as it may, I find it inconceivable that Barien should be involved with such a plan. Illior's Eyes, I have known that man for fifty years! And Phoria? That makes no sense whatsoever."

"I can't imagine what she and the Lerans would have to gain from each other," Micum concurred. "In their eyes, her blood is as tainted as her mother's."

"She wouldn't be the first noble to be duped into a betrayal of some sort without realizing it," warned Seregil. "And if her dear close friend Lord Barien was in with the Lerans, he'd be just the man to do it."

"But why would he betray her?" snorted Nysander.

"Who knows? Alec and I could probably slip in and—"

"Absolutely not!" Nysander paused, rubbing his eyes. "I agree, dear boy, that we must examine this matter closely, but you must leave Barien and the Princess Royal to me. For the time being, you three are to confine your investigation to Teukros and Kassarie. It is not yet midnight; could you begin tonight?"

"Oh, I suppose we could drag ourselves out again, if we have to," Seregil drawled, exchanging a wink with the others.

"Excellent. I shall arrange a pass and see that your horses are saddled. Take whatever else you need from here. You must excuse me now, for I have work of my own to begin. Illior's Luck to you all!"

Alec let out a sigh of relief. "At least I don't have to go back to Wheel Street tonight. Runcer treats me like the master of the house, and I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do."

"I know how you feel," said Seregil, stretching restlessly. "I'll go mad myself if I have to be cooped up in here much longer."

Watching his friend scratch irritably at Thero's bearded cheek, Alec wasn't certain if "in here" meant Nysander's tower or the assistant wizard's body.