Casket of Souls

been good with children. Having Sebrahn for so short a time and then losing him had left a deeper wound than Alec would admit. Though he wouldn’t talk about it, every so often something would bring the sadness to the surface. It happened less often now, but the pain was still just as deep.
    “It’s not just that,” Alec added softly. “I was nearly that poor once, and played in the streets when my father left me behind in towns sometimes.”
    “At least he came back. You had someone who cared about you.” It had been a long time since Alec had mentioned his father, and although the man had sounded like a hard-bitten sort, Alec had clearly loved him and felt loved in return. At times he showed a bit of the man’s reticence, too, Seregil reflected.
    “This disease doesn’t just strike children,” he pointed out. “There was that prostitute we found, and your fellow tonight.”
    “That’s true,” Alec said grudgingly. “But the drysian saidthe bawd had been to her with various maladies. She might have been ill. It makes sense for a disease to take the weakest.”
    “The poor don’t get as much food, especially this summer. They’re not as healthy to begin with, and they die younger.”
    Alec frowned. “If Korathan quarantines them, it will just make it worse.”
    “But keep it from spreading and killing even more, as it appears it already is. These things run their course, like a fever or a wildfire. Did you get a good look at them?”
    “Not a thorough one, but I asked about wounds and marks, tattoos and the like. There was nothing.”
    “Well done.”
    Alec was quiet for a moment. “The drysian told me there are a lot more sick ones at the temple down in Grampus Street. She said there are more falling sick in the Lower City all the time. That’s where she thought the ones she had came from. The man I found certainly looked like someone who could have been from the stews down there. I think he was a gate runner, from the smell of him.”
    “We already have our hands full, Alec.”
    “If it’s spreading up here, wouldn’t Valerius want to know?”
    Seregil sighed. “We’ll go to him early tomorrow, and see if he knows anything about all this. Let him have a look at them. Illior knows there’s nothing we can do to help them.”
    They rode on in silence for a few minutes. “The Skulpin seems a strange sort of place for anyone who loves luxury as much as our actor friend, don’t you think?” said Seregil.
    “You think he was lying about why he was there?”
    “I don’t know. It could just be a place he frequented when he and his friends lived there.”
    “I’m surprised he had the energy to go, after a performance.”
    “The Crane is dark tonight.”
    “It is?” Alec frowned at something.
    “What is it?”
    “He had a little cosmetic on his face.”
    Seregil chuckled. “He probably wanted to look as alluring as possible.”
    “No, not all over, just around the hairline.”
    “Not that surprising. It’s not always easy to get off, depending on what you use. It’s probably from yesterday.”
    “I suppose so.” But Alec didn’t look satisfied. “Still—does Atre strike you as the sort of man who would stop to help a street urchin on a dark street?”
    Seregil chuckled again. “Probably not the real story. Most of the doxies are half cutpurse, themselves. He must have propositioned the wrong one. Or ran afoul of some street toughs.”
    “Maybe.” Alec paused, then asked, “By the way, did you enjoy your performance at the Three Dragons?”
    “My amazing winning streak?”
    “No.”
    “Ah, the stripping naked in front of a hundred or so noblemen and women part of the evening.
Enjoy
isn’t the word I’d use, but it was satisfyingly useful.”
    “Useful?”
    “Absolutely! Before I met you, Lord Seregil was known for things like that. Well, not usually in such a public place, perhaps—”
    “Perhaps?” Alec raised a skeptical eyebrow at that.
    “At parties, mostly.”
    “So you did things like that a lot?”
    “Now and then, just to keep up my reputation. Mostly it was getting other young nobles into trouble stealing public statues or bluecoats’ horses while we were drunk, slumming in borrowed clothes, or daring each other to jump off Widow’s Cliff into the sea. You should try that, actually. Very invigorating—if you live.”
    “And carrying on with actors, I suppose.”
    “Oh, yes. And actresses.”
    “Am I bad for your reputation, now that we’re