Klia closed her eyes for a moment and licked her dry lips. “Not a thing, except to bear witness, I suppose. I just-I just wanted you to know. Silly, I suppose, but…”
Her words sped his already pounding heart. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but as usual the words jammed somewhere in the region of his heart. All he managed was, “I’m so glad you told me. I wish there was something more I could do for you. I could come there.”
“No, my friend, that’s not necessary, and might raise a few too many questions, since you’ve no business here.” She paused and shook her head slightly. “I wish you could, though.”
Every fiber of the wizard’s being ached to brush aside her warning and cast the translocation that would take him to her side.
“I want you to take word of this to Korathan, and tell him I’m fine.”
“Fine? All those bandages-”
“Minor wounds, Thero. It was dark when they attacked and I didn’t make it easy for them.”
“How many?”
“Four. They killed themselves with poison when they failed. We were unable to question any of them.”
“And you’re certain they were Plenimarans?”
“They were in uniform.” She let out a small laugh. “And who else would want me dead?”
I can think of a few. But he held his tongue. A Plenimaran attack was really not that surprising, and those were certainly recognizable tactics.
Klia gave him the details of the latest battle and the attack, but soon it was obvious that the effort was taxing what strength she had.
“Rest well, and call on me whenever you need,” he said.
Her smile was warm this time. “You know I will, my friend. Don’t let Korathan worry too much, please.”
“I’ll do my best, Highness.”
“Good.” With that she closed her eyes. After a moment of gazing at that beloved face, he broke off the spell.
Thero entered Prince Korathan’s palace room just after dawn. The prince was dressed and seated by the hearth, stroking the ears of one of his hunting dogs.
“I have news, Highness,” Thero told him. “Klia was attacked last night.”
“Attacked?” Korathan stared at him in alarm. “Sakor’s Fire, is she all right?”
“Yes. There was poison involved, but her drysian saved her.”
“Thank the Sailor. But how do you know this?”
Thero explained the night’s events as succinctly as he could.
“They sound more like professional assassins,” Korathan remarked when he was finished.
“Yes, but they might have been soldiers, as well. Klia said they were in uniform.”
“I suppose so. Have you told Seregil and Alec?”
“No, I came straight to you.”
“Good. I think it would be better if we kept this to ourselves for now. Klia is a popular commander and given the mood of the city, this kind of bad news isn’t needed.”
“But Seregil wouldn’t-”
“There’s nothing they can do about it, Thero. I’m not asking.”
Thero bowed low. “Of course, Highness. I will say nothing.”
“Good. She can tell the story herself when she comes home. And Thero?”
“Highness?”
“How did you happen to be talking to my sister?”
“She gave me a talisman, Highness, so that I could contact her. And I gave her message wands so she could contact me. That’s what happened last night; she called for me and I opened a window spell so we could see and speak to each other.”
Korathan raised a pale eyebrow. “Really? And how did this unique system come about?”
Thero couldn’t tell if the prince was displeased or not, but
he forged ahead with the truth. “When I had to leave her behind in Aurenen, we exchanged talismans. So I could help her if she needed it.”
“You consider yourself her protector, then.”
Thero met the prince’s gaze steadily. “I do.”
The prince looked at him for a long moment, then, with a hint of a smile, said, “Good.”
CHAPTER 13. The Golden Crane
ONCE Atre had Seregil’s and Kylith’s money in hand, the actor wasted no time in moving his company to their new theater, now named the Golden Crane.
Two weeks after they’d first seen the place, Alec attended the opening performance with Seregil and Kylith. Tonight Atre was launching a new play-a lovers’ tragedy-and it was the best production so far, now that the players had the money for proper costumes, cosmetics, and scenery.
As promised, Seregil and Alec sat with Lady Kylith in the lavishly appointed patrons’ box reserved for them. A wine jar and fine cups stood waiting on a small table, with a basket of pears.
“Patronage has its pleasures,” Seregil said, selecting a piece of fruit. “We certainly have the best seats in the house.”
“And room for more,” Alec noted.
“I do hope you don’t mind, but I invited a few friends,” Kylith told them.
“Not at all. Who will be joining us?”
“Malthus and Ania, and Duke Laneus and his lovely wife, Eona. I don’t believe you know them.”
Seregil squeezed her hand. “We’re always happy to make new acquaintances, my dear.” He knew Laneus by sight; he was one of the queen’s ministers.
“I’m sure you’ll like them. Eona is such a dark beauty! Her grandmother was a Zengati princess, you know.” Kylith paused and gave Seregil a concerned look. “I’m sure she’s from one of the tribes friendly to Aurenen.”
“I’ll assume that to be the case,” Seregil replied with a smile. “Besides, you can’t blame anyone for their grandparents, now can you?”
Word of the company had certainly spread, and the seats were soon full, from the boxes crowded with nobles down to the crowded groundling area.
The rest of their party soon arrived in satin, silks, and jewels. Alec rose with Seregil and bowed to the newcomers.
“You honor us with your presence,” Seregil said, shaking hands with the two men and kissing the duchesses’ hands.
Though fair-skinned, Eona had the dark shining curls and deep violet eyes of her Zengati forebears. As Kylith had noted, she was a stunning beauty, and Alec did his best not to stare.
“Oh, I am looking forward to this!” she exclaimed, settling next to Kylith. “And I’m so glad to meet you, my lords. One hears such wicked things about you.”
“Don’t embarrass the gentlemen,” her husband, a tall, grizzled man, scolded mildly, though the look he gave her was indulgent.
Seregil gave her his most charming and foppish smile. “I’m sure most of it’s true, but I promise we’ll behave ourselves tonight.” He raised Alec’s hand to his lips. “Won’t we, my love?”
“I’ll try,” Alec assured her, managing to blush a little, which clearly amused and charmed their guests.
The play was very fine, one of the best they’d seen so far.
“Doesn’t Atre look especially dazzling tonight?” Kylith whispered.
“The wonders of expensive cosmetics,” Seregil said with a soft chuckle. All of the actors were professionally made up, but Atre did stand out among them, looking younger and more vibrant than ever. Alec supposed they must be eating better these days.
Between acts Brader’s young sons Kalin and Van sold wine and ale, and little Ela went around the boxes with a basket of flowers. Their party already had refreshments, but Seregil summoned Van over and gave him a sealed note-an
invitation for Atre and his cast to a celebratory dinner after the show. During the second intermission the boy brought back word that the older players would be honored to join them.
“You will join us, I hope, Your Graces,” said Kylith.
“Unfortunately we have a previous engagement,” Malthus told her. “But certainly next time.”
When the show was over, the dukes and their wives departed with promises of invitations to come. Alec and the others remained in their box as the cast received compliments and gifts from their admirers.