Lynn Flewelling - Luck in the Shadows

"Idrilain is aware of our investigations. I believe she understands the import of this letter," replied the wizard.

"Oh, that's fine then," Seregil snapped, pacing to the far end of the room. "Unless she suddenly begins to wonder why he died immediately after you began looking into his activities. Suppose she begins to question whether your loyalty to me is greater than to her? That's still my body there in the Tower, you know. I want it back in one piece!"

Micum looked the letter over again. "Couldn't this be a forgery? Sakor's Flames, we've just been dealing with some of the best forgers in Rhнminee."

"And what about Teukros?" added Alec. "It's his word against Kassarie's that he intended to go there at all. He could have gone to Barien's instead. He could have gotten into the house easily enough, being family. Once in, he kills his uncle, drops the note, and slips out again. I told you before, Barien was angry

with him over something."

Nysander shook his head. "There were no signs of violence or magic on Barien's person or in the room."

"Doors?" interjected Seregil.

"Locked from within. And as for the matter of Teukros' disappearance, if a man of Barien's stamp believed his nephew had betrayed the family's honor, he himself may have taken steps to remove the young man, a last act of family duty. There is ample precedent for such practices among that class. But the fact remains that whatever Alec heard them arguing about last night, it must surely have contributed to Barien's death."

"What about Phoria?" asked Micum. "It appears she was one of the last people to see him alive, and at his summons, too. Has anyone talked to her?"

"By all reports, the Princess Royal is in deep mourning and is seeing no one," answered Nysander.

"That's vague enough," mused Seregil. "Do you think she's involved?"

"Before Barien's death I should not have thought so. Now I fear we must admit the possibility. If that does somehow prove to be the case, you may be certain it will be dealt with by higher authorities than you or I."

Seregil continued his uneasy perambulation around the room. "Which still leaves us with one man dead and one missing. Have their houses been tossed?"

Nysander nodded. "A small cache of forged shipping manifests was uncovered at Teukros' villa. With them were found copies of several seals, including yours and those of Lord Vardarus, Birutus i Tolomon, and Lady Royan a Zhirini."

"My seal and that of Vardarus; that's clear enough."

Seregil picked up a sextant from one of the tables and fidgeted absently with it. "What about these others? I've never heard of them."

"Minor nobility with minor commissions. Lady Royan oversees the port of Cadumir on the Inner Sea just north of Wyvern Dug. The commission is an hereditary one appended to her holding. Young Sir Birutus was recently appointed to a post with the sutler corps—something to do with meat, I believe."

"They don't sound like the sort to bring the government toppling down," Micum said, perplexed.

"And just where was all this damning evidence found?" asked Seregil, coming to a momentary halt by the desk.

"An interesting point, that," Nysander said with a mirthless smile. "Everything had been concealed beneath the floorboards of Teukros' bedchamber."

"The floorboards," Seregil exclaimed in disgust. "Bilairy's Codpiece, even a green thief knows better than that. You might as well nail it to the front door! This snarl of events just isn't making sense. Barien certainly had access to the royal seal, but to have handed it over to such a dolt as that? It's absurd."

"You said he had a blind spot for his nephew," Alec reminded him.

Seregil stabbed a finger at Barien's letter. "A man who composes as cold-blooded a suicide letter as that would never be so careless. Mark my words, there's more to this than we're seeing."

The four fell silent for a moment, mulling the seemingly contradictory evidence.

"What about those servants we followed?" Alec asked at last.

"What about them?" Seregil muttered, still scowling down at the letter.

"Well, I don't know about the girl, but that man of Teukros' seemed to know where to deliver the papers. He offered to go, remember? But Teukros said he'd do it himself."

The others stared at him a moment, then exchanged chagrined glances.

"By the Light, how did we ever overlook such an obvious point?" cried Nysander. "The members of both households have been taken into custody. They are all being held in Red Tower Prison. Come along, all of you!"

"Bless the day I dragged you out of that dungeon," laughed Seregil, throwing an arm around Alec's neck as they dashed for the door.

Nysander had the Queen's authority to question the prisoners and, as Seregil was still in Thero's form, no one challenged his right to accompany his master. Leaving them to their task, Alec and Micum went off to see how the real Thero was faring.

As luck would have it, the warder was the same one whom Alec had met on his first visit to the Tower.

"Poor fellow!" The warder shook his head regretfully. "Prison's been damned hard on 'im, Sir Alec. First day he was gracious as you please, a real gentleman. But he's gone sort of sour since. We've hardly had a word out of him in a couple of days, and what he has said ain't been hardly civil."

Reaching the cell, he took up his post at the end of the corridor. "Visiting rules same as before, young sir. Keep your hands away."

Alec peered through the grille. "Seregil?"

"Alec?"

"Yes, and Micum."

A pale face appeared at the bars and Alec experienced a familiar sense of incongruity. The features and voice were Seregil's; the expressions and intonation were not. The overall effect was reminiscent of Seregil's Aren Windover persona.

"How are you holding up?" asked Micum, standing with his back to the guard.

"It's been a most unusual experience," Thero replied grimly. "They've left me alone for the most part,

though, and Nysander sent some books."

"Have you heard about Barien?" whispered Alec.

"Yes. Frankly, I'm not certain—"

"Good news! Good news, Lord Seregil!" the warder interrupted, heading their way with a bailiff in tow.

Thero pressed his face to the bars. "Is that my release?"

"It is indeed, my lord." The warder rattled the lock open with a flourish.

Standing by the cell door, the bailiff unrolled a scroll and droned out, was "Lord Seregil i Korit Solun Meringil Bokthersa, now of Rhнminee, the charge of treason laid against you has been rescinded. Your name is cleared of calumny. By the Queen's grace, step forth and be free."

"I can't tell you how happy I am, sir," the warder said as Thero stepped blinking into the relative brightness of the corridor. "It would've been damned hard to give you over to the inquisitors, like they was talking at first. Damned hard, sir."

"Harder for me than you, I'm sure," Thero snapped, striding off without a backward glance.

Cocking an eye at Alec, the warder spread his hands. "You see what I mean, sir?"

Alec and Micum caught up with Thero on the stairs.

"You might have handled that a bit more smoothly," Micum whispered angrily. "You're supposed to be Lord Seregil, after all."

Thero shot him a sidelong glare. "After two solid days of rats and platitudes, I doubt he'd have been a great deal more gracious."

For appearance's sake they went directly to Wheel Street. Runcer met them at the door with his usual lack of surprise.

"We had word, my lord," he said gravely. "Your bath has been prepared, if you'd care to go up?"

"Thank you, Runcer, I will," Thero replied, attempting Seregil's easy manner. "Let me know the minute Nysander arrives."

Runcer's wrinkled face betrayed little as he watched Thero march off up the stairs, but Alec thought he caught the hint of a cryptic frown before the old servant doddered off toward the kitchen.