Atre was in his element, and amused the whole table with stories of his travels and experiences with curious characters. Seregil joined in, and soon they were vying to see who could tell the most outrageous story.
The wine flowed freely, and Alec drank cup after cup. By the time they got to the dessert course, he was drunker than Seregil had seen him since last Mourning Night, laughing loudly at everything and swaying in his chair. Seregil shot him increasingly annoyed looks through the meal, trying to catch his eye, and by the end of the meal he was pretending embarrassment and poorly concealed his anger at his young lover.
“Your Grace, I really must apologize,” he said to Palmani, reaching out to steady Alec in his chair.
“Ah, temperance comes with age,” Reltheus said with a laugh.
“You serve the mos’ essecellent wine, my dear Reltheus!” Alec slurred, holding out his cup again.
Seregil snatched it away and put it out of reach. “I’m sorry to end the evening on such a note, but I fear I should take him home before he can’t walk at all.”
“I most certainly can walk!” Alec exclaimed indignantly. To prove it, he stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. He wavered a moment, then collapsed in a drunken faint.
Seregil quickly righted the chair, apologizing profusely as he and the actor tried to get Alec onto his feet. “Alec, you fool! Of all the boorish-”
“Oh, the poor thing!” Palmani cried. “He’s going to be very sorry in the morning.”
“Perhaps sooner. Really, I fear for the state of your carriage.”
“A wise concern,” said Reltheus. “Please, stay the night.”
Seregil sighed. “We’ve abused your hospitality enough already.”
“Nonsense!” said Palmani. She summoned a servant. “Have one of the bedrooms made up for them at once. And send some men to carry Lord Alec upstairs.”
“You’re far too kind,” said Seregil.
“He’s not our first guest to enjoy our wine too much, Lord Seregil. It’s no trouble at all.”
“Perhaps I should go,” said Atre, watching it all with counterfeit concern.
“Oh, do stay a little longer!” Palmani pleaded. “This will only take a few minutes.”
“Want to stay ’n’ watch Atre,” Alec mumbled, leaning unsteadily on Seregil.
“Some other time,” Seregil told him none too gently.
They were given a room overlooking the garden, and Palmani accompanied them upstairs. As Seregil followed the servants carrying Alec, he tried to take stock of the other rooms along the corridor, but most of the doors were closed.
Their bedchamber was large, with tall fretted summer doors that let onto a balcony beyond. The furnishings were richly carved, and the walls were decorated with murals of fantastical undersea scenes.
The servants placed Alec on the bed and pulled off his boots.
“If I might trouble you for one last thing, dear Duchess,” Seregil said. “I think a bucket may soon be in order.”
“I’ll have one sent up at once, and water.” She looked down at Alec, who was snoring softly. “I fear you’re in for a restless night. I can have one of the servants tend to him, if you’d like a room of your own.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We’ve been through this before.”
“Good night, then. I’ll have breakfast sent up in the morning.”
“I think bread and tea will suffice.”
When she was gone, Seregil sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Alec’s flushed cheek. “Tali?”
Alec moaned and looked up at him. Though not quite as drunk as he’d pretended, he was still glassy-eyed. “Did it work?” he mumbled.
“Perfectly.”
Alec gazed blearily around. “Is that octopus on the wall really moving?”
“No,” Seregil chuckled.
“The bed is moving!”
“No, it’s not, love.”
Two maidservants hurried in with the bucket, water, and several small flannels. Seregil folded one into a band, soaked it in water, and laid it across Alec’s forehead. “Does that help?”
“No,” Alec gasped, looking pale. “Bucket!”
Seregil supported him over the side of the bed as Alec brought up both wine and dinner. When he was finished, Seregil set the bucket outside, undressed Alec, and settled him more comfortably in bed with a fresh cloth on his brow.
“Better now?”
“A little,” Alec said, eyes fluttering shut. “You damn well better find something!”
Leaving Alec to sleep, Seregil paced the long balcony, peering in through the windows of the other rooms. There was enough moonlight for him to see inside; all bedchambers, one of which was the nursery, where a wet nurse was watching over two of the duke’s younger children, and the new baby. The one next to it appeared to belong to the duchess.
He went inside again and waited until the house was quiet, then slipped out into the corridor to begin his search.
The rooms at the front of the house proved to be more bedchambers and a day room. Taking out the tool roll he’d hidden under his shirt, he searched that room but found nothing of interest except the duchess’s correspondence box. He
looked through it quickly and found nothing of note. Whatever Reltheus was up to, it was doubtful his young wife knew anything of it.
As he stepped out into the corridor, a brawny servant with a lantern appeared at the head of the stairway just a few yards away.
“Who’s that there!” the man demanded, coming closer and raising his lantern. “Oh, it’s you, my lord! Whatever are you doing out here in the dark?”
“I was looking for the garderobe, actually,” Seregil replied, feigning chagrin. “I didn’t want to disturb anyone with a light.”
“No chance of that, my lord. You’d be lucky not to break your neck. But you know, there’s chamber pots under all the beds.”
“I can’t abide the things! Surely there is a proper toilet here?”
“Oh, yes, downstairs. Here, I’ll take you to it.”
There was no choice but to follow him down, but as luck would have it, they passed the open door of what looked like a study overlooking the garden.
The toilet was a rank little closet in a far corner of the house. Garderobes were common in Rhiminee, just a shaft down to the sewers below, with a seat on top. With the watchman waiting outside to light him back to his room, Seregil made use of it and allowed himself to be led back to his room.
“Thank you,” Seregil said, giving the man a silver half sester.
“Much obliged, my lord.”
Alec was fast asleep and not so pale. Seregil washed his hands at the basin and went back to the door. There was no sign of the watchman. In no mood for any more surprises, he felt his way to the staircase and made his way back down to the study. If the watchman found him again, he’d just say he was indisposed.
The room was lost in shadow, but Seregil could make out the furnishings in the faint light from the window. A search of the desk produced only a few letters from the son detailing
life in the Horse Guard and Klia’s actions. From the tone, it seemed he admired his commanding officer. In the one locked drawer-and if you wanted to catch a thief’s attention, one locked drawer was the way to do it-he found an ornate dagger and a leather portfolio containing a report on him and Alec.
It was written on decent parchment in a rather clumsy hand. It gave in brief detail the tale of how he and Alec had come to be in Rhiminee-the public version, anyway-and a few pertinent details about whom they knew, including Klia, Kylith, Thero, Malthus, most of the names Alec had found on the list in Kyrin’s cupboard, and Duke Laneus. That last was odd, since he’d only met the man once, at the Golden Crane. But that helped him gauge when this report had been written. The main body of the several close-written pages, however, was devoted to their relationship with Klia. Once again, it only contained public knowledge, and nothing about them saving her life that night at Kassarie’s keep, but there was mention of how Seregil had discovered what had poisoned her in Aurenen, and his role in the truce negotiations. This spy had either been there, or talked to someone who had.