Casket of Souls

Way.”
    Korathan sat down and waved them to the other chairs. “Bilairy’s Balls! As if we needed anything else this summer. Tell me more.”
    “Seregil and Alec have seen more of it than I have.”
    The two of them told the prince of the people they’d found, and the temple drysians’ reactions.
    “You handled the bodies and yet you come here?” Korathan asked incredulously.
    “Yes, and as you can see, Your Highness, we haven’t caught whatever it is,” Alec replied.
    “How it is passed is a mystery so far,” Valerius explained. “But it doesn’t seem to be through physical contact. I mean to look into this personally.”
    “Very good. See that you keep me apprised of your progress. Of all the damnable luck!”
    “With all this heat, I’m surprised we haven’t seen more sickness,” said Valerius. “Hopefully this one will run its course quickly.”
    “I’ll issue the edict of quarantine immediately.” With that Korathan returned to his breakfast and the papers he’d been studying.
    Parting ways with Valerius at the front gate, Seregil and Alec headed for Wheel Street.
    “There, that’s handled,” Seregil remarked as they rode down Silvermoon. “Are you satisfied?”
    Alec shrugged. “Quarantine isn’t going to help the people who are already sick.”
    “It’s in Valerius’s hands, now, talí. There’s nothing more we can do. Come on, let’s see Thero, then it’s home for a nap for me.”

 
    S EREGIL had his answer about the attempted assassination the following afternoon when Runcer appeared at the library door. “My lord, there’s an urchin asking for you.”
    “The usual urchin?” Seregil asked, setting his book aside.
    “No, my lord. A new one.”
    The boy in question had been left waiting on the front doorstep. He wasn’t much older than Kepi, and had the same capable, starved look about him. He hopped to his feet as soon as Seregil stepped out.
    “Message for you, m’lord,” he said, making a sort of bow.
    “Yes?”
    “Just one word, m’lord. ‘Laneus.’ ”
    Seregil felt a cold sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, although he’d expected something like this. He gave the child a silver penny and went back inside.
    Alec came in from the kitchen and found Seregil staring at the murals, absently rubbing at the thin scab on his throat.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Laneus didn’t waste any time. He set the assassins on us. I doubt they’ll stop at just one attempt.”
    “Time to pay him a visit, don’t you think?” asked Alec.
    “Perhaps he and his lady would enjoy an evening out? I’ll send invitations to him and Malthus, and Eirual and Myrhichia, too. The women will be a good distraction. I’ll fall ill at the last moment and send you to play host. Take them to the Red Hart. If anything goes wrong, you can excuse yourself and ride like hell to warn me.”
    “Why can’t I do the housebreaking? You’re better at entertaining the nobles.”
    “You’ll be fine.” Seregil leaned forward and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “Besides, it’s my turn.”
    “We’re taking turns now? If that’s the case, then you’re wrong. You burgled Malthus, and Reltheus,” Alec countered, undeterred by the kiss. His expression darkened ominously. “This is the second time you’ve tried to keep me from going out alone. Is this about that night I broke into Kyrin’s house without you?”
    “No, talí, I just—” Seregil broke off with a sigh. He’d sworn long ago not to lie to his talímenios. “Well, maybe a bit.”
    “I’m going,” Alec said in a tone that he seldom used with Seregil, or anyone else, for that matter. “Either you trust me, or you don’t.”
    “It’s not a matter of trust.”
    “Yes, it is.” Alec took him firmly by the shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “You’re going with Laneus. Because you
are
much better at charming the nobles than I am, and always will be. I’ll be fine—and careful. I promise.”
    A muscle twitched in Seregil’s jaw as he clenched his teeth against all the arguments he wanted to make. It was true; he hated the thought of Alec doing the job alone, in a large and unfamiliar villa. But Alec was also right about their individual skills. His young partner had taken to nightrunning and swordplay far more naturally than he had to the delicate thrust and parry of social subterfuge.
    Caught in the strong current of that earnest blue gaze, Seregil gave in. “All right. You do the