Casket of Souls (52 page)

“Dare I hope you will join us for dinner with the company, Your Highnesses?” asked Seregil.

“No,” Korathan replied, though Elani had for an instant looked hopeful.

Brader came in from the wings just then, and although he was still several yards away, that strange feeling shivered up Thero’s back again, muted, but unpleasant. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and then Seregil was introducing him to the man.

“My lord, we’re honored by your presence,” Brader said to Thero. “This is your first time with us, isn’t it?”

“It is, Master Brader.”

“I hope you weren’t offended by our humble efforts in portraying your vocation?”

The man was quietly charming, but Thero was almost certain he felt another hint of the odd sensation again, though he couldn’t be certain.

After seeing the royals into their magnificent carriage, Thero and the others accompanied the actors to a local tavern that everyone else seemed to be familiar with. The host saw to them personally and Thero found himself seated between the dark-haired beauty, Merina, and the pretty young woman named Tanni, who’d played the wizard’s daughter—another inconsistency, that, since Orëska wizards were always barren. But he soon forgot about such things, as both of them were charming and flirtatious. Brader was quite modest and reticent for an actor, and hard to draw into conversation. Atre, however, fit the mold perfectly, charmingly ruling the table. A very charismatic fellow, this one.

“You must dine out every night with one admirer or another,” Palmani remarked.

“Not every night,” Merina replied. “We’d never get any
work done if we accepted all invitations. But yes, we are in demand lately.”

“Even if we do have to perform for our supper now and then,” the old actor named Zell said with a laugh.

“Aren’t you worried about the plague in the city?” asked Palmani.

“If we were still in Basket Street, I would be,” Atre replied. “Fortunately, through the generosity of our patrons, we feel quite safe where we are.”

“Who have you entertained lately?” Seregil asked.

“Let’s see,” said Atre. “Duke Almand, Marquis Dorander, and Marquis Kyrin, to name a few.”

“Don’t forget us!” chided Reltheus.

“Of course not, my dear Duke. Who else? The late Duke Laneus, Lady Ethia … And at a few of the houses in the Street of Lights, too. Your friend Eirual’s among them. Lovely woman, quite the hostess. I saw her at your party, didn’t I, Lord Alec? And with another beautiful young lady, too. Now, what is her name? I’ve quite forgotten it.”

All the merriment fled from Alec’s face. “It was Myrhichia. You visited her at Eirual’s house, as I recall.”

“Did I? It’s all such a whirl!” He paused. “But you said ‘was.’ Did she—?”

“She died,” Alec said tersely, and Thero was surprised at the anger that lay just below the surface of Alec’s restrained good manners.

“She was a good friend,” Seregil said smoothing the moment over. “She passed away recently.”

“I am sorry. We must drink to her memory.”

A toast was raised and Seregil tactfully steered the conversation in another direction. As skilled as Alec had become at playing a role, the sadness stayed in his eyes for some time.

“I’m fascinated by Skalan magic, Lord Thero!” Atre enthused over the apple tart. “Is it true that your powers come from having some other blood mixed with yours somehow?”

“Yes,” Thero replied, rather surprised at the question. Anyone should know that. “Aurënfaie.”

“Atre hasn’t been in Skala very long,” Alec explained.
“He’s from the northlands, like me. No one knows much about Orëska magic there.”

“What sort of magic do you practice, my lord?” asked young Teibo, the brother of the young woman next to him.

“Perhaps Thero would favor us with a demonstration?” said Seregil, giving him a wink.

“Magic! Magic!” the three young children cried, clapping their hands.

Thero smiled as they watched him with big eyes. While he didn’t appreciate being made to perform for pampered noblewomen, he’d come to like amusing children during the long days in Aurënen.

“Let’s see.” Cupping his hands over a leftover slice of bread, he concentrated on the form of a tiny dog and released it to run around the table and sniff at the delighted children’s fingers. Then he levitated the dessert plates, sending them into a complex swirling dance above their heads.

“Those are my best dishes!” the tavern keeper called out nervously, but the rest of the crowd erupted into applause. He brought the plates down again, carefully setting each back in its original place.

“How wonderful!” Merina exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek. Brader didn’t seem particularly surprised.

“Do another!” the little girl cried excitedly.

“Now, Ela, don’t pester our guest,” Brader chided.

“One more,” said Thero, aware that many around the room were watching to see what he’d do next. If he wasn’t careful, he’d develop a reputation for frivolity. “May I have a strand of your pretty red hair, miss?” he asked, meaning to turn it into a ring for her.

Brader clasped his daughter’s hand as she went to pull out a strand. “That’s enough now. We don’t want to tax the good wizard’s patience.”

For a moment the big man looked almost frightened.

“My friend is still superstitious after all our time in the south,” Atre apologized for him. Smiling, he plucked a strand of his own auburn hair and handed it to Thero across the table. “Here, you can use this.”

Thero took it and for an instant he felt another fleeting
wisp of that strange sensation. The strand of hair felt cold between his fingers. But with everyone looking on expectantly there was no way to examine it more closely. Instead, he wrapped it around the tip of his little finger, then hid it behind his other hand and murmured the spell. The hair transformed into a tiny ring of braided gold, which he took from his fingertip and presented to Ela with a flourish, glancing quickly at her father. This didn’t seem to bother him.

Atre hoped the others couldn’t see him sweating. He hated wizards and their prying eyes. Luckily this one wore the robes of his Orëska House, so Atre had seen him from the wings and recognized what he was. He wasn’t always so lucky.

He’d managed to keep his distance from the man at Alec’s party, and Kylith’s wake; now it was all he could do to maintain the protective shield around himself and Brader and still remain in the conversation. He hadn’t had any elixir in days, but Brader had drunk one only yesterday. He prayed that the scent of it or whatever it was that wizards sensed was faint. However, he’d seen something in this wizard’s expression when they were introduced that warned him that the man might suspect something.

“Something wrong, Thero?” Alec asked as they settled into the hired carriage and headed for Wheel Street. “I thought you were enjoying yourself?”

“I did. But there’s something odd about those actors.”

Seregil raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“There’s a whiff of magic there. Do you know anything about that?”

“Magic? No. Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t.”

“What kind of magic?” asked Alec.

“That I’m not sure of.” Thero didn’t like it, but hadn’t sensed any threat from either man. Whatever it was, the magic was working only on them. “Do they have any enemies here?”

“None that I know of,” Seregil replied. “Though I’m sure
the other companies in the city aren’t happy with the competition.”

Thero settled back against the cool leather seat, not entirely satisfied. “I wouldn’t let Elani near them again, if I were you. You don’t want anything rubbing off on her.”

“She’s met him twice now,” Alec noted. “You didn’t feel anything bad around her, did you?”

“No, quite the opposite. The court wizard takes good care of her. All the same, better to err on the side of caution.”

Seregil nodded. “Do you think someone means the actors harm? How serious is this?”

“It was very faint,” Thero replied. “Perhaps something passing away.”

“Certainly nothing that’s affected their luck,” Alec observed. “Did you see that brooch Elani gave Atre?”

“A nice bauble for his collection,” Seregil replied. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone given so many gifts.”

It was late when Seregil and Alec arrived back at Wheel Street but Runcer met them with the news that “that boy” was in the kitchen again, waiting for them.

Seregil chuckled. “Ah, the poor thing must be hungry. It’s rather like having a stray cat for a pet.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Runcer said, carefully neutral on the subject.

“You can go to bed now. Alec and I are in for the night.”

“Very good, my lord.”

They found Kepi curled up asleep by the banked hearth. Seregil shook him gently by the shoulder and nearly got himself knifed for his trouble as Kepi woke expecting who knew what.

He blinked, apparently surprised to find Seregil gripping his wrist. “Sorry, m’lord. You startled me.”

“My mistake. I assume you have some news for us?”

“I do, if you ain’t already heard it. That Kyrin fellow you had me and me friends watchin’? He’s dead.”

“What killed him?”

“Don’t know, but he’s dead, all right. I seen through a
window him all laid out with coins on his eyes, and women cryin’ over him.”

“Any sign of drysians?” asked Alec.

“Not that I seen and I watched fer a while, figurin’ you’d want to know.”

Seregil paid the boy and sent him off to keep watch through the night.

“Kyrin?” Alec exclaimed as they climbed the stairs.

“If Laneus was murdered, perhaps this is a reprisal. But what in the name of Bilairy is killing them? Not one of them has eaten at the other side’s table before they died. If it is poison, then they’re hiring professionals. I think we should go out, Alec, and do a little gossip collecting.”

Gossip spread quickly and it was soon common knowledge that Kyrin had been found dead in an arbor in his own garden, without a mark on him, or any clear sign of poison or magic, according to the high-ranking drysian who’d been called in. Apparently he’d just dropped dead like the others.

“Kylith, Laneus, Tolin, Alarhichia, and now Kyrin?” muttered Seregil as they rode home. “All cabal members, except Kylith, and Kyrin seemed to suspect her. And no sign of what killed any of them.”

“You really don’t think it was just age with Laneus and Kylith, at least? And Kyrin wasn’t young, either.”

“Too many deaths in one small circle in such quick succession, Alec, and not their wives, husbands, children, and so forth. It stinks of treachery.”

They spent the rest of that day making the rounds of what was left of Kyrin’s circle, offering condolences and subtly probing for more information. There were thinly veiled references to poison and enemies, but nothing definite, even from Reltheus, though he was clearly shaken.

T
HINGS
did not improve when two days later Kepi appeared with more bad news.

“Duchess Nerian’s dead,” Kepi said, perched on the rain butt outside the kitchen door, eating his latest free meal. “She was a friend of Duke Laneus, right? I seen her at his house plenty a’ times.”

“Dead how?” Seregil demanded.

“Way I heard it from one of the other boys, she was found in her garden this mornin’ strangled.”

Seregil paid him and sent him on his way. “Well, that certainly sounds like a reprisal, doesn’t it?”

An hour later Kepi was back with news that Earl Kormarin, a known friend of Malthus’s, was found bloated and floating in the inner harbor at the end of Crab Quay with a knife wound between his shoulder blades. According to Seregil’s assassin friend, Nerian and Kormarin were both commissioned killings: Nerian by Reltheus, and Kormarin by Malthus.

“The two cabals have declared war on each other,” said Alec when Seregil came home with the news.

“And saved Korathan the trouble of arresting all of them.”

The following day word came that one of Princess Aralain’s ladies-in-waiting had simply dropped dead in the act of pouring her mistress a dish of tea, and one of Duke Reltheus’s pages had been found dead in a garderobe. The Noble Quarter was in a panic.

“What in Bilairy’s name is going on?” Alec exclaimed as they sat in the library, trying to make sense of it all.

Seregil took out pen and parchment and began to write names and draw lines between them. “Laneus, a Klia supporter; Tolin, an Elani supporter; Alarhichia, on Tolin’s side; Kyrin; now Kormarin, perhaps a conspirator we missed. Now Nerian, also a Klia supporter.”

“But why the lady-in-waiting and the boy?”

Seregil gazed out the window at the street below, where a cart laden with household goods and luggage was rattling by. “Accidents, perhaps? They somehow got the poison intended for their master or mistress?”

“I doubt they’re doing their own killing, don’t you?”

“Yes. So I think I’ll go have a talk with my friend in Knife Street.”

Seregil disappeared in search of his informer in the assassins’ guild, and returned in a few hours, looking unhappy.

“As far as my friend knows, only Kormarin’s killing, Tolin’s, and Nerian’s were commissioned with the guild,” he told Alec as they sat in the garden. “He knew nothing of any other murders by the guild, though they’re certainly adept at poisoning.”