Casket of Souls (28 page)

The sergeant snorted. “The Scavengers are bred to filth. Ain’t nothing that kills them but each other. And the drysians
have their Maker to protect ’em. Go on, now. You’d best be on your way, my lords.”

Seregil swung up into the saddle and gave Alec a surreptitious wink. “Clearly, there’s nothing we can do for her.”

They rode slowly around the block, giving the sergeant and his men time to move on, then circled back. Alec carried the woman and Seregil led the horses as they took her to the little Dalnan temple where they’d taken the boy. People they passed along the way shied away from them, and some made warding signs against ill luck and sickness.

They rang the bell and, after a time, a sleepy-looking young drysian looked out, then quickly opened the gate so they could bring the woman in.

“How many of these people have you seen?” Seregil asked the drysian when they were inside.

“A boy was brought in yesterday, but I’ve heard of more,” he replied. He took the woman in his arms and led them through the temple, with its stone hearth altar carved with sheaves and fruit, to an inner room beyond. A young boy with dark brown hair and eyes lay on a straw pallet, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

The acolyte spread a pallet for the young woman and covered her with a blanket.

“I’d like to speak with the priestess, Brother,” Alec told him.

“Of course, my lord.”

The man disappeared, and a moment later the priestess they’d spoken with before joined them.

“This one’s from one of the Hake Street houses,” she said as she bent over the stricken woman. “I’ve cured her of the usual things a few times. I suppose this is a kinder end for her than many she could have come to.”

“You’re probably right.” Alec reached into the purse at his belt and gave her two new-minted silver sesters.

The drysian took them with a weary sigh. “Maker’s Mercy on you, for your kindness and generosity.”

“How long has the boy been here?” asked Seregil.

“His mother brought him to me two days ago.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“Yes, he’s the candlewick maker’s son, Teus.”

“You handle these people without any fear, it seems. No gloves. No bird beak masks full of herbs.”

“It didn’t occur to me to do so, when the first one was brought to me,” she explained. “By the time others came, I was quite certain it was not a contagion spread by touch.”

“That’s not what the bluecoat we just met said,” Alec told her. “And some of the folk we met on the way treated us like we had plague.”

“I’m beginning to think it might be one,” she replied. “But you, young sir—you carried her with no thought of danger?”

“The same as you, Sister. We’ve encountered this before and I didn’t catch anything.”

She patted his arm. “You’ve good hearts, my lords, to stop for such a girl.”

“We’re all one under the Maker’s eye, Sister,” Alec replied.

“You’re a Dalnan?” she asked in surprise.

“Raised one.”

“Good! Not enough of us down here in the south. Those flame and moon worshipers could learn a thing or two from us. Maker’s Mercy, my lords.”

“And to you.”

They rode up through the deserted Harbor Way and through the Sea Market.

As they threaded their way through the poor neighborhood beyond, Alec turned sharply in his saddle, peering down a side street and reined his horse around.

“What is it?”

“I could swear I just saw Atre pass under a street lantern down there.”

Seregil shrugged. “His old Basket Street theater isn’t far from here.”

“What would he be doing back there?”

“Who knows? Come on.”

The Stag and Otter was shuttered for the night. They approached carefully, making sure not to be seen coming here in noble dress.

Entering the darkened kitchen, Seregil went to the broad
mantel over the hearth and took down the large painted pitcher that stood in the center of it. Inside were two folded parchment packets, both sealed with wax that bore no emblem.

Alec shook his head. “More work! Just what we need.”

Upstairs they lit a few lamps. Seregil sat down on the couch and told Alec all he’d heard on the island.

“You think they tried to assassinate Klia?” Alec exclaimed. “By the Light, Seregil, how could Korathan not know? The news should have been all over the city!”

“Not if he didn’t want it to be. As vicegerent, he has to keep the peace and he doesn’t need any fuel being heaped on the fire of unrest he’s already contending with. I just can’t imagine Thero not knowing. It will be interesting to see what he has to say about it. But now to these.”

Alec leaned over Seregil’s shoulder to read with him as he opened each letter.

“Another bauble delivery,” Seregil said as he read the first one. Tossing it aside, he opened the second and showed it to Alec. “Just as I thought.”

“Someone wants us to burgle Malthus’s house?”

“Yes, and look at this clever phrasing. For ‘any missives of interest to the queen.’ ”

“That must have been what you heard Reltheus and the others talking about.”

“I’d say so. Reltheus must have sent this before we sailed this morning. Does the handwriting look familiar to you?”

“No, but the sender might have had someone else write it for them.”

A great cloak of secrecy surrounded the workings of the Cat, requiring any message back and forth to pass through a number of trusted hands. Not only did this system protect the Cat from being unmasked, but it made their noble patrons feel safe dealing with them. Whatever they found would be passed to one of several people, who would pass it on to others, until it reached the agent of the person buying their services. Money changed hands in the same manner.

“It’s risky. If he caught us, knowing who we are?” Alec shook his head doubtfully.

“It’s riskier for Malthus if we don’t, though, Alec. If the Cat doesn’t take the job, whoever sent this will just employ a less sympathetic, and probably less discreet agent. And it’s hardly the first time we’ve burgled the house of someone we know. The Cat would be out of a job if we made such distinctions!”

“I suppose so.”

Seregil went to the desk, took out a piece of charcoal he kept for the purpose, and scrawled
Yes
in crooked letters across the missive. Resealing it with tallow from a cheap candle, he disappeared downstairs to return it to the pitcher for delivery. Ema’s husband was the first of many couriers, taking the Cat’s replies to a run-down tavern called the Black Feather, where Seregil, in disguise, of course, had an agreement of many years with the landlord.

And so it began.

T
HEY
found Thero in the Orëska garden the following morning, with a silver trowel in one hand and a flat gardener’s basket in the other. His hands were uncharacteristically dirty, as was the front of his long canvas apron, and his dark curls were sweat-plastered to his forehead. So far Lenthin was showing no sign of being cooler than the previous two months.

Thero’s basket was filled with roots of various shapes and sizes, elements for spell work. Such gathering had to be carefully done, often with the aid of spells, and could not be left to servants.

“When are you going to take on an apprentice for this sort of thing?” Seregil chided, dismounting to greet him.

“When and if I find the right child,” Thero replied.

“Then you’re looking, finally?” asked Alec.

Thero sighed. “We’ve only had six children presented here since Mourning Night, and none of them were suitable for me.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Nysander once told me, ‘You’ll know when you’re ready, and you’ll know them when you meet the right person.’ I understand now what he meant.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting lonely in your tower?” said Seregil.

Thero shrugged. “I suppose I am.”

They left their horses with a servant and walked with Thero into the shelter of a small cherry orchard. Delicate
pink and white petals drifted down to settle on their hair and shoulders as they sat on the soft grass under the trees.

“Any word from Klia?” Seregil asked quietly.

“She has Beka and Nyal spying for her, but so far they haven’t caught Danos sending any messages, or doing anything else suspicious.”

“Give her time. He’s sure to slip up sooner or later, unless he’s more of a nightrunner than I give him credit for.”

“He must have some skill, to go unnoticed for so long.”

“Apparently,” said Thero. “Now, I assume you’re here to report about your day out with the princess?”

Seregil grinned. “You heard about that?”

“You two are becoming the talk of the Noble Quarter. Especially you, Alec. I never expected you to be taken into the royal circle. No doubt it will prove useful. If nothing else, you can keep an eye on those around her. Anything new on Reltheus?”

Seregil related the conversation he’d overheard, including Stenmir’s potentially treasonous comment regarding the queen and what appeared to be talk of a failed assassination against Klia.

“That does sound serious,” Thero said when he was done, looking curiously unsurprised by the news.

“Did you know that someone tried to kill her?” asked Alec.

The wizard hesitated, then nodded. “Korathan doesn’t want word of it getting out.”

“But to us?”

“He and Klia both assume it was the work of the Plenimarans. I did, too, until this news.”

“Maybe it would be just as well that they keep thinking that for the moment,” said Seregil. “If Korathan arrests those we know of now, there could be others who escape. We don’t know the full extent of either cabal just yet. I assume that Klia is taking precautions against another attempt on her life?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Let us do our work.”

“What about this mysterious document that Reltheus and
the others were talking about? What could it be, and who has it?”

“That we should be able to answer soon,” Alec replied. “When we got to the Stag last night, there was a job waiting for us.”

“To find the letter, I presume? Where?”

“With Malthus, I’m afraid.”

“This grows more serious by the day. Alec, how close are you to Elani?”

“Close?” Alec shrugged. “She’s just friendly and likes to shoot with me. And gamble with Seregil.”

“All the same, you’re in a better position to look out for her.”

“Klia’s paved the way for us there,” Seregil told him. “Apparently she’d spoken well of us to her niece often enough to make an impression. And I wouldn’t discount Elani for her age. She strikes me as very astute.”

“Her father is said to have been a brilliant man, and a fine general. Apparently she takes after him. I’m glad to hear she can still enjoy herself, though. She’s very serious at court.”

“Being chosen the heir when she was half grown, rather than being born to it, would make me pretty serious, too,” said Alec.

Thero looked around, then lowered his voice. “If Phoria dies, do you think Elani can rule?”

Seregil shrugged. “In the field? Who can say? But she’s been trained by Phoria, and if the queen has confidence in her, then the girl must be made of strong stuff.”

“And there have been warrior queens her age before—Tamír the Great, and Gherilain herself,” Alec pointed out.

Thero nodded. “Well, use your connections. I must know if something is seriously afoot against any of the royals. Has Reltheus said anything more to you about Princess Klia?”

Seregil exchanged a knowing look with Alec. “He’s asked us about her several times, actually. Nothing very specific, really, just our impressions of her and how close friends with her we are.”

“I see. I suspect they’ve underlined your name on their list by now, even with this unexpected good luck at court.”

“I get more the impression that he’s sounding us out as possible allies, or at least trying to use us for information.”

“So you’re next move is to burgle Malthus, I suppose. And if you do find something treasonous?”

“It comes to you, of course. I just hope we don’t.”

As they were taking their leave, Alec paused at the door. “Thero, have you heard anything about a disease called the sleeping death?”

“No. What is it?”

“Some sort of sickness down in the port. People just fall down and lie there with their eyes open for days until they starve.”

“Doesn’t sound like any magic I know of. Some form of epilepsy, perhaps. I haven’t heard anything of it up here.”

“No one has, it seems,” Seregil told him. “It’s only affecting the poor in the Lower City.”

“Ah, that would explain it, then.”

“We heard a bluecoat talking quarantine,” Alec added.

“That would certainly get people’s attention. Has Valerius looked into it?”

“Not that I know of,” said Seregil. “It could be that the priests and healers down there are as worried about quarantine as anyone else.”

“With good reason. It could cripple the whole city.”

“And if it spread up here there could be a panic.”

“I should think this is a matter best left to the drysians,” Thero warned. “See that you two don’t catch it.”