“Just a little mishap with the drapes,” Seregil hedged. He scrutinized the bottom of the box, tapping it lightly with his finger. “I think there’s a space under here.”
He pulled the remains of the left side of the box free and his smile went a little crooked. There was, in fact, a false bottom, with a space about two inches deep beneath. “Lend me your knife.”
Alec gave him the black-and-silver-handled dagger and Seregil used it to pry the false bottom of the box free. Underneath he found a folded letter still bearing a waxy spot where the seal had been broken. Even though it had no salutation or signature, he immediately recognized the familiar, slanted script; it was from the same spy who’d sent the other messages to Reltheus, and written in the same code. Skimming it, Seregil made out “Ten more to the cause. Think the wolf bitch is watching. Taking steps.”
“If it is Reltheus who hired the Cat, then I bet this is what he was looking for,” mused Alec.
“Or something like it. It’s certainly proof enough that Laneus and his crew know about the other cabal. This ‘wolf bitch’ is almost certainly Beka. And ‘steps taken’ might refer to preparations for the assassination attempt. This isn’t good.”
“We have to warn her!”
“Yes, although if this was intercepted before it was seen by
Reltheus and the others, there may not have been any order sent back yet.”
“But if we give this to him-”
Seregil grinned. “Oh, we’ll give him something, all right.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Forge a replacement, of course.” Going to the basket on the desk, he took a piece of scraped parchment and began making the edges ragged and smudging it with soot from the hearth. When that was done, he mimicked the writing style of the sender and the code. His note read: Ten more to the cause. Wolf bitch suspects nothing.
“There, that should do it.” Seregil gathered the other papers. “When the time is right we’ll send these off to the Cat’s employer and see where they turn up. I’ll give this original to Thero.”
“What are we going to do about Malthus?”
“I think we’ll send an invitation for him to join us for dinner and a jaunt to the theater tomorrow night. Perhaps Thero would enjoy another evening out, as well.”
CHAPTER 22. Changes of Plans
SEREGIL and Alec were dressing for dinner with Malthus the following night while Thero, whom they’d finally worn down, strolled in the garden, when Runcer appeared at their chamber door with a sealed letter from Lady Ysmay.
Alec broke the seal and read the contents. “Oh no!” he gasped.
“What is it?” asked Seregil, looking up in the act of pulling on a boot.
“It’s Kylith. She’s-she’s dead.”
Seregil stared at him a moment, dumbstruck, then let the boot fall and reached for the letter. “Illior’s Light! Does it say how?”
“Died in her sleep in her bedchamber this afternoon.” Alec shook his head sadly. “She didn’t look sick at dinner last night.”
Stricken, Seregil sank back on the bed and rested his face in his hands. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew I’d outlive her, but she was one of my first friends when I came into society. She helped me so much-”
Alec went to him and put an arm around him as Seregil drew in a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I know she was more than a friend. It sounds like she went peacefully, at least.”
Seregil sighed. “Looks like we’ll be disappointing Malthus tonight. We’d better go give Thero the news.”
“What’s wrong?” the wizard asked the moment he laid eyes on them.
Seregil showed him the letter.
“May Astellus carry her gently. Seregil, I’m so sorry. She was a delightful lady.”
“The wake begins tomorrow morning. I’ll send a note to Malthus,” said Alec, taking charge.
“Thank you, tali.”
Atre was dressing to go out the following morning when Brader came in without knocking.
“What are you doing up here?” he demanded. “The others are already at the theater, waiting for rehearsal.”
“I’m afraid the theater will be dark tonight, and a few more besides,” said Atre, still dressing in front of the mirror on the wall. “Haven’t you heard? Lady Kylith passed away. I’m going to pay the respects of the company.”
Brader stared at him a moment, then grabbed him by the front of his fine linen shirt and slammed him against the wall hard enough to set the mirror swinging on its nail. “Not again!”
Atre grinned. “What makes you think-?”
Brader pulled his fist back, trembling with anger. “I can see it on you! I can see it in your eyes. You sworeto me!”
Atre ignored the imminent threat to his face. “She was old, cousin. Old people die. I understand that it was very peaceful. What do you care anyway? She’d already cut us off. What use was she anymore?”
“We’re safe here, Atre! Or we were. You’re taking too many anyway, and now?” He turned away with a look of disgust. “You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”
“You’ve forgotten what it’s like with the good ones, cousin. How you relished them. You’ve been living on crumbs for too long. I have another one with me, right over there. Seems old Marquis Yarin took sick suddenly at his summer estate last week. Such a pity. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t crave it as much as I do.”
“Brader, did you find him?” Merina called. They could hear her coming up the stairs.
Atre clucked his tongue. “Dear me, cousin, what will you tell her this time? Or shall I bring her into our little secret?”
Brader closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Damn you.”
“Brader, is that you?” Merina called from just outside.
“Yes, love. I found him. I’m afraid we’ve had some bad news.” He looked back at Atre as he reached for the door handle. “At least put something on your face!”
Atre lounged against the wall and pouted at him. “Oh, look, you’ve torn my favorite shirt.”
Leaving Atre to make himself presentable, Brader went to head off Merina. He thought he’d schooled his expression, but Merina took one look at him and her eyes widened with dismay.
“You two are fighting again?” She caught up with him and clasped him by the arm. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing, Brader! Things have been going so well. He’s happy. I thought you were happy, too.”
“It’s not that, love.” How he hated lying to her! “We’ve just had word that Lady Kylith died.”
“Oh, no!” Merina came into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. “The poor dear! She was so good to the children, and so generous.”
“Yes.” Brader held her close and kissed her hair. With her warm tears dampening his shirt, he couldn’t say any more than that. Building on the lie caught in his throat.
“Another dead patron,” she whispered against his chest.
“She was old, Merina, and she’d withdrawn her patronage.”
“She did? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
Merina sighed. “She wasn’t that old, Brader, and not the first. Sometimes I wonder if we bring bad luck with us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. People die.”
She gave him a worried look. “It’s more than just today. I’ve been concerned for a while now, though I haven’t wanted to say anything. Atre gets this gleam in his eye sometimes, something wild, and so often it means we’re moving on again. This is the best place we’ve ever been!”
“Not to worry, my dear!” Atre exclaimed as he came out of his room, dressed in his best black coat. “I’m off to pay the
company’s respects at poor Lady Kylith’s wake. Such a loss!” He kissed her cheek, then pulled on a fine pair of black kid gloves. “Nothing to fret your pretty head about, though. There are plenty more rich fish in this lovely, fertile Rhiminee sea, and I plan to stay here for a very long time.”