There were several caskets of jewels in the other cabinet. Taken all together, it was more than enough to finance a conspiracy-or a hasty escape.
He turned his attention to the papers on the top shelf of the first cabinet, expecting more manifests. Instead he found a collection of short notes and, after reading a few, realized that they were most likely the translations of Danos’s coded
letters. “Klia disagreed with the queen in front of the troops at Monton.” “Klia wounded at Alford.” “Hawk clipped Klia’s wings at Morninghill.” “Klia’s troop defeated at Ustin.” His forged note was among them. Another caught his eye: “Klia lives. No survivors.”
“You bastards, you really did it,” Seregil muttered.
There were more of the same in the other cabinet, and some in a different hand, pertaining to the queen’s movements. That came as little surprise, but it was the first time he’d found anything suggesting there was a spy in Phoria’s camp.
Among the rest of it he found a rolled letter tied with scarlet ribbon. Seregil slipped the ribbon off and scanned it, recognizing Reltheus’s bold handwriting even before he read the signature at the bottom. It was addressed to Tolin. The first part dealt with the sale of some horses Tolin had purchased from the duke, and then made reference to the courtesan Hyli, whose favors he outlined in graphic detail. It was the last paragraph that sent Seregil’s heart racing.
In reply to your question at the ball the other night-yes, when Danos is consort, I will urge him to have you appointed chief minister of the exchequer. Upon that you have my word.
Seregil seriously doubted that Reltheus had placed this in Kyrin’s hands. Bilairy’s Balls, was everyonein Rhiminee blackmailing each other this summer? And what could have possessed Reltheus to commit something like this to ink and parchment? Strictly speaking, it was not treasonous, but the wording- whenDanos was consort, not if-would reflect extremely badly on both father and son if it was shown at court, and most likely end any marriage hopes between the two families. Had Kyrin snared Reltheus into this plot, this cabal? What Seregil had found so far pointed to the marquis being the head of the serpent, rather than the duke. Kyrin was not as social, but he seemed to have the more impressive collection of information. It appeared that Danos sent his messages to his father, to avoid suspicion, then Reltheus passed them on to Kyrin. Which meant Kyrin was taking the greatest risk, though Reltheus had something more personal at stake.
And how had Kyrin gotten the letter? From Tolin himself, perhaps, since the man seemed to be quite solidly in the plot. Unless Kyrin was blackmailing him, as well? Seregil frowned as he replaced the letter; holding a conspiracy together by coercion was a recipe for disaster. No, it was more likely only Reltheus, whose use lay in his son’s position in Klia’s regiment. Should Reltheus’s hopes be realized, Seregil wondered if he would be the power behind the throne, as he clearly hoped, or Kyrin?
At the back of a shelf he discovered a leather box. Inside, padded in blue velvet, were two small, wax-sealed phials. Viscous liquid half filled each, black in the soft glow of his lightstone. Seregil carefully cut the wax seal close to the mouth of each bottle and worked the little plugs out. He sniffed the contents of each phial, then hastily stoppered them again. It was poison, what the assassins called Wyvern Blood-a type of viper’s venom, blended with some other unhealthy ingredients, including blue myrtle, which gave it such a mild but distinctive herbal odor and incredible potency. One scant drop of this in someone’s wine and they’d be dead after the first sip. And even a drysian or wizard couldn’t detect it, since it was such a small amount and not magical. Needless to say, mere possession of this could land a man in the Red Tower. Kyrin was indeed playing a dangerous game, which meant the stakes were very, very high.
More disturbing still, there was space in the box for one more phial, and the velvet was crushed, as if one had been removed. Could this be what was used on Klia? Doubtful, since she survived.
So what does Kyrin want, then? Elani on the throne, perhaps, just as much as Reltheus? Or Phoria off it.
“Six of one, half dozen of the other,” Seregil muttered as he warmed the poison phials’ wax seals with his breath and fingers and smoothed them back as they had been. It might be what was on those lock traps, or Kyrin could use it on himself in case he was caught. It would give him a far quicker death than Phoria would.
Seregil put the phials back where he’d found them and went to the desk. It was plainly made, with only one drawer,
which was locked and rigged with the same poisoned needles. Someone should tell Kyrin not to use the same device more than once. It gave the rest of them away and made for boring thievery. He loosened the works and pulled the drawer open. Inside was a packet of those copied letters of Elani’s, dating back over a year, and several from Alaya. The contents of both were seemingly innocent, but contained a lot of information about the princess’s daily business, and frequent mentions of her interest in Danos, and her warm feelings for Reltheus, whom she clearly liked a great deal.
They’ve been at this for a while, he noted. Since before Elani met Danos at that hunt last winter.
He quickly shuffled through them, wishing he had more time to read them in detail, since there was no question of stealing them or time to copy them. As with the others, nothing of earth-shattering importance jumped out, but anyone with a discerning eye could at least get a sense of the girl herself. Which would be quite useful to anyone trying to find a young man to catch her eye. Or groom one to catch her eye, perhaps.
And there was one other point of interest: all copies of Elani’s letters were done in the same script. Seregil went back for a second look. The script appeared very similar to that taught to the palace scribes. This looked like a poor attempt to disguise it.
One way or another, he was going to have to find out who was making these copies.
Alec followed Malthus’s carriage at a safe distance, and was not surprised when it halted at the gates of Laneus’s villa. The duke’s face was grim as he alighted under the lanterns and was ushered in by the watchman.
Alec skirted the walls and found a way over into a kitchen yard. From there he made his way into the back garden. As he watched, a light suddenly showed at a window on the ground floor. That was a piece of luck, not having to climb for once.
Creeping up to the window, he looked into a large dining
room, where the two men were conferring in low tones. The window had been propped open to catch the evening breeze. Alec hunkered down under it, listening.
“If he knows, then how many others?” Malthus was saying, and he sounded genuinely frightened.
“Why did you not press him on where he’d heard it?” snapped Laneus. Alec could hear him pacing. “That is the greater question.”
“I had the impression that he’d heard it from Duke Reltheus.”
“Ah, yes, his new friend. Lord Seregil and his boy are quite popular in those circles these days.”
“All the better for us to make use of them, don’t you think?” asked Malthus. “Why else would he have come to me?”
“Don’t be a fool, Malthus! Seregil could just as easily have been sounding you out for Reltheus and his pack. It might be time for your friends to suffer an unfortunate accident.”