Reaching the far end at last, the longboat cast off and they hoisted canvas and sailed down the rocky coast to Ardenlee.
They’d decided to put in here, rather than Rhíminee, and enter the city as quietly as possible, which for Seregil and Alec meant evading any of the queen’s spies who might recognize them. There were still the pieces of the books to be dealt with before they made their presence generally known.
The sailors swam their horses ashore, and they followed in a longboat with their gear. Rhal came along to bid them farewell.
When they were ashore at last, he clasped hands with each of them and held Alec’s the longest. “Take care, my lords, and see if you can keep out of trouble for a while.”
“Good hunting,” said Seregil.
“And a full hold,” added Micum.
They stayed the night in a small inn, and set off the next day for the Bell and Bridle once again. “It’s good not to be pursued this time,” Micum remarked.
Seregil chuckled but Alec just looked away and said nothing. He’d been carrying Sebrahn the last time they came this way.
They spent the night at the Bell, and Seregil used one of the message sticks to let Thero know of their return. The following morning it was time to finally say another farewell.
“I could ride to Rhíminee with you,” Micum offered as they stood together in the stable yard.
“You’ve made Kari wait far too long already,” Seregil told him. “Give her our apologies, and tell Illia and the boys that we’ll bring presents to make up for your absence.”
“They’ll hold you to that. And see that you come out to Watermead soon.” He wagged a finger at them both. “I expect to see you before the spring foaling’s done.”
“You will,” Alec promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Micum embraced them each in turn. “I’ll miss you. I always do.”
Mounting his horse, he turned and headed for home.
Alec and Seregil watched him out of sight, then headed for the stable to get their horses.
“What do you say, Cynril, my girl?” Seregil asked, rubbing the tall black’s nose. “Ready to turn your head for home?”
Home, thought Alec. “The villa or the inn?” he asked, hoping for the latter.
“The inn, of course. I think we deserve a few days’ peace before we plunge back into society.”
“Good.” After all the horrors and hardships of these past months, Alec wanted to hide away in their secret rooms for about a year before he even considered parties and intrigues.
CHAPTER 36
Rhíminee in the Dark
THEY ARRIVED at the north gate of the city just before midnight and rode through into the Harvest Market. The labyrinth of stalls was dark, and the great square was deserted except for a few sleeping beggars and a stray tomcat howling its lust somewhere in the shadows. From here they followed Silvermoon Street into the Noble Quarter, past the Palace grounds, and on to the walled grounds of the Orëska House. The soaring white palace towered above its walls, gleaming like pearl in the moonlight. The huge glass dome that topped it, and three of the four towers that stood at the corners, were dark, but light still showed through the dome of the east tower.
“Looks like we won’t be waking Thero,” said Alec.
“Perhaps he waited up for us.” Seregil patted his saddlebag and the two oo’lus strapped behind his saddle. “This time we brought presents for him, too.”
Guards in the red livery of the House stepped out to challenge them, but their names were password enough. They rode on through the dark, ever-fragrant gardens and left their horses with an attendant. Climbing the broad steps, they entered the huge, echoing atrium and strode across the great dragon mosaic floor to the stairway. Five stories of elaborately carved balconies and walkways were lost in shadow, except for lanterns hung at intervals along each.
Thero was uncommonly disheveled when he answered their knock. His blue robe looked slept in, and there were purple ink stains on his fingers and right cheek. “There you are! I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.” He looked them over, taking in their mud-spattered boots and trousers, and the saddlebag and oo’lus Seregil carried over one shoulder. “Where is Sebrahn?” he asked as they came into the workshop. The smell of a brazier hung on the air, and the stink of some spell.
“He’s safe. I’ll tell you the tale in a while,” Seregil said quietly with a meaningful look in Alec’s direction. “When we’ve had some wine.”
“Very well. I’ve had some news of my own, today. Ulan í Sathil died in Riga.”
“When?”
“Not long after you left, I’d say. He was carried back to Virésse in state with a boatload of ransomed slaves, a hero to his people.”
“A hero?” Alec exclaimed.
“It’s all right,” Seregil told him. “He’s more use to everyone that way. No good could come of the truth.”
“But, still, it’s sort of ironic, isn’t? Us keeping his secret for him?”
Seregil gave him a wry smile. “Life does tend to work out that way sometimes.”
“Did you find the book?” asked Thero.
“Books, as it turned out,” Seregil told him.
Seregil set the saddlebag down on one of the workbenches and took out the three halved volumes.
Thero looked at them in dismay. “What happened?”
“I split them with a Hâzadriëlfaie captain we got to know, with the idea that it was safer with no one having all of any of them. I did try to salvage the best bits, though.”
Thero gaped at them. “Hâzadriëlfaie? Really?”
“That’s who was chasing us when we met you at the Bell and Bridle,” Alec told him. “It’s a long, long story after that.”
“Another one. Then you’d better come downstairs and tell them.”
“Is Magyana still awake?” asked Seregil. “She’ll want to hear it, too.”
“She went down to Rhina to visit Hermeus. I’ll send word to her tomorrow.”
“Oh, and before we go any farther?” Seregil pointed to Alec’s hair; Thero’s magic had not worn off and it was still brown. “Will you please put this right?”
“Of course.” Thero stood behind Alec and ran his hands over his head. When he was through Alec’s hair was back to its normal honey blond.
“Ah, that’s much better!”
“And these,” said Alec, pushing his sleeve back to show him the slave brand.
Thero removed those as well, and led them down the back stair to his tidy sitting room.
The room hadn’t changed since Nysander’s day. There was still the band of mural around the room, magical as well as decorative, and the old comfortable furnishings. A dining table stood at the center of the room, with armchairs by the hearth beyond. The walls were filled with bookcases, scroll racks, and dusty objects of uncertain origin.
Thero wove a quick spell on the air with one finger and a burlap-wrapped wine jar appeared on the table, still crusted with snow from Mount Apos. He poured them goblets of the chilled Mycenian apple wine and they sat down at the table with the books.
Seregil took a long sip of the cold wine and sat back in his chair. “Oh, I have missed that!”
“The books?” Thero asked impatiently.
“I think you’ll find this one of the most interest.” Seregil said, showing him the one with the most drawings of rhekaros. “I don’t know if the whole thing is about the making of them, but I tried to get as much of it for you as I could.”
“Excellent!” Thero looked as happy as Micum’s daughter Illia with a new necklace. “This is wonderful! Given Yhakobin’s skills, this could prove very useful, even if it is incomplete. I’ll need your expertise in figuring out the code, I’m sure.”
“Once we get settled in again,” Seregil promised, then presented Thero with the oo’lus. “I thought you’d like these, too.”
“Also part of the long story,” Alec told him.
Thero refilled the cups. “I’m ready to hear it.”
It did take quite a while, even with two of them telling it. When they were done, Thero shook his head. “I’m sorry about Sebrahn, Alec.”