Turning the corner, he left the puddles behind for the equally stained cobblestones of Painted Lane, the pigment dealers’ street. It was late morning and the street was crowded. There were dozens of shops here catering to artists, ink makers, mixers of cosmetics, and the occasional wizard. Thero needed a particular shade of purple ink for a spell and he knew just the shop to find the necessary dried thorn berries and another for the finest ink-making gums.
He was coming out of Master Syin’s shop with the berries when a strange, crawling sensation ran up his spine. It was familiar, though it took him a moment to place it; he’d felt a hint of it at Alec’s birthday party. He looked around, trying to decide where in the crowd it was coming from. A tall, red-haired man with several large parcels under his arms caught the wizard’s eye; Thero only had a glimpse of a long, stern face and broad shoulders as the man wended his way deeper into the passing crowd. Leaving his horse tethered by Syin’s shop, the wizard shouldered his way through the crowd, stepping on the occasional foot in his haste to catch up to the man, but to no avail. By the time the crowed spilled out into the Sea Market, the fellow was nowhere to be seen. Thero could have cast a wizard eye, but it was difficult to concentrate in the commotion of the marketplace and the strange feeling was gone, leaving no trace to follow. He walked awhile in the direction he thought the man might have gone, but found no sign of him. Giving up, he went back to his shopping and soon forgot about it.
There was an archery list just beyond the pavilion and Elani and Alec shot for a while with some of the young courtiers. The shatta Alec had given the princess hung from
her quiver, and similar ones from the quivers of some of the other archers, made of jewels and coins.
“You’ve started a fashion,” Seregil noted as Alec stood waiting his turn.
At midday everyone gathered in the pavilion for the luncheon picnic. There were cold aureoles and pheasant, bits of beef in a fiery red sauce, cardamom bread, strawberries and clotted cream, and plentiful wine and cider. Afterward the servants spread blankets on the ground and most of the courtiers sought out a shady spot for a nap through the hot part of the day. Seregil was about to do the same when Alaya came to him. “The princess has heard about your bakshi playing, Lord Seregil, and would like a game with you.”
“Of course,” Seregil said. “Are there stones? I didn’t bring mine.”
Stones were found and he joined the princess at one of several lichen-crusted marble tables under an ancient spreading oak.
“I’ve heard a great deal from Reltheus about your skill at gaming,” Elani said, pouring her stones into the tray.
“Alec can shoot. I can gamble, Highness,” Seregil said with a smile.
“Perhaps you can teach me a thing or two, then. I don’t have much luck, but everyone except Alaya and Reltheus always tries to let me win.”
“Just as they do at shooting?”
“Alec told you that, did he?”
“Yes. And I assure you, I play to win.”
She grinned. “Then you’re both honest men. I like that.”
“If I may, Highness, you seem like a very direct young woman, yourself.”
“Do I?” She seemed pleased. “Mother says I’m too blunt.”
“Just another word for being honest. The queen herself is very-honest.”
Elani laughed as she placed her first stone. “Yes, she is, but I think that’s part of what makes her such a splendid warrior and queen, don’t you?”
“I do indeed, Highness.”
They began to play in earnest, with Seregil giving advice
now and then. In spite of his help, however, he won three games in a row.
“I see your reputation is well deserved,” Elani laughed. “You have the Lightbearer’s luck, as they say. But you would, wouldn’t you, being ’faie?”
“We’re not all lucky, Highness, and my luck only runs in certain ways, none of them very useful.”
“But I hear that you back privateer ships. That’s very useful. May I ask you something?”
“Of course, Highness. Anything.”
“We’re said to be distant kin. Why aren’t you at court?”
Grinning, Seregil flipped a bakshi stone in the air and caught it. “Because I’m not very respectable, Highness.”
“But you were at court for a time?”
“When I was very young.”
“I’ve heard that you were friends with Aunt Phoria and Uncle Korathan.”
“I was. I think I can say that I’m still on good terms with your uncle.”
“And Aunt Klia. That’s why I wondered-But you’ve already said. So why aren’t you on good terms with the queen?”
How to answer that? “Well, as I said, I’ve become a bit of a wastrel over the years.”
“You don’t seem like a wastrel at all. And Lord Alec certainly doesn’t,” she said, then blushed.
“I’m afraid I’m rather a bad influence on Alec. And I suspect your mother and aunts would agree.”
“That’s not what Aunt Klia says. She says the alliance with Aurenen would never have been struck if not for you. And that you and Lord Alec helped save her life when she was poisoned.”
“She honors us. We only helped.”
The princess surprised him with an unexpectedly shrewd look. “If she trusts you, then you both are worthy of trust. I won’t forget that when I’m queen.”
Reltheus wandered over just then, carrying a three-legged stool. “You two are looking very serious over a game,” he said, sitting down beside the table.
“Lord Seregil is teaching me strategy,” she told him. “But you were right about his luck.”
Reltheus chuckled. “Seregil, you better mind your manners or you’re likely to end up in the Tower again.”
“I’d forgotten that,” said the princess. “But Grandmother did let you out.”
“I’d rather not take my chances there again,” Seregil replied with a wink.
“I won’t send you there, at least not for beating me at the stones. Reltheus, will you give me a game so I can try out my new skills?”
Seregil rose and bowed. “May you have Illior’s luck, Highness.”
He was aware of jealous eyes on him as he searched out Alec, who was dozing under a birch tree. Seregil sat down with his back against the white trunk and settled himself as if for a nap, then kept watch under his eyelashes.
Presently Elani stood up from the bakshi table, laughing over something Reltheus had said, and joined her ladies to nap in the shade. Reltheus sat where he was, looking pensive, until Tolin and Stenmir joined him and the three strolled off into the forest.
Seregil waited until they were out of sight, then stood and stretched, and ambled off in the opposite direction. As soon as he was in the cover of the trees, however, he quickly skirted the clearing and soon caught sight of Reltheus’s red coat. The three nobles were standing on the path, heads together, deep in conversation. Seregil had worn his brown coat for just such a chance. Keeping low, he stole silently closer to a hiding spot behind a fallen tree.
“How could you be so careless?” Tolin hissed.
Reltheus gave him a dark look. “It was intercepted from the courier before it ever reached me. There was little I could do about that.”
“What are we going to do? Are you certain the duke has it?”
“Yes.” Reltheus started off along the path again, deeper into the woods, and Seregil followed, staying just close enough to hear what was said.
“We must get it back!” Tolin hissed. “It’s not just your head on the block if he goes to the prince with it. Have you told Kyrin?”
“Of course I have.”
“Any more word from the north, Reltheus?” asked Stenmir.
“No, and nothing at the Palace. I suspect if they’d been successful in killing her, we’d have heard about it by now.”
Killing her, Seregil thought, shocked at the words. There was only one “her” he could think of that they would be speaking of. If there had been an attempt, how could Thero not know?
They passed through a clearing, and Seregil lost the thread of the conversation as he had to skirt wide to avoid being seen. All he caught were bits and pieces of some argument between Reltheus and Tolin. Stenmir said little, listening more than he spoke. The men stopped again and Seregil heard Reltheus say something about “the cat.”