Casket of Souls

soon
.
    There was nothing overtly damning in it, but knowing what he did and whom it was addressing, it wasn’t too difficult to guess what was really being said.
    Seven more—
    This bore out their concern that arresting the principal players would cause the unknown followers to scatter.
    He rubbed the bottom of the sealing wax with his thumb to soften it, then stuck it back down and turned his attention to the desk, and then the room. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t find any secret caches of papers, though he searched every available surface except the ceiling and wiggled anything he could lay hands on, looking for a trigger for a secret space, or a passageway like the one Seregil had found at Kyrin’s house. Nothing.
    At Eirual’s brothel, Seregil found the lady in question still in her dressing room. The little chamber was filled with the sweet fragrances of expensive perfumes and powders. She was admiring herself in a long mirror as her maidservant adjusted the folds of Eirual’s pale green silk gown. Several pairs of fancy shoes were lined up for inspection in front of the wardrobe.
    “You’re just in time, my love!” the courtesan greeted him, smiling at Seregil in the mirror. Lifting two ornately woven jeweled necklaces from a casket on the dressing table, she turned and held them up for him to judge. “Pearls or the peridots?”
    Seregil struck a thoughtful pose. “Pearls, I think. They look so cool and inviting against your skin.”
    “Pearls it is.” She handed the necklace to Seregil and lifted her black ringlets from her neck.
    Seregil dutifully fastened the heavy strands and brushed his fingertips playfully down her nape. “Hmmm, yes. Most inviting.”
    She turned and kissed him on the cheek. “Such a tease. I do miss you, you know. You were always one of my favorites.” She noticed the black armband he wore as she reached for one of the pearl hairpins on the dressing table. Her coquettish smile faded. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”
    “Nor I.”
    Eirual shook her head as if repelling sadness and began decorating her elaborately braided hair with pearl hairpins. “And where is the fair Alec? Still downstairs?”
    “No, he’s not well tonight. I’ll be escorting both you lovelies myself, and will be the envy of all who see me.”
    “You always are, I suspect.”
    Myrhichia hurried in with a white silk girdle embroidered with pearls. “I thought you might want this,” she said, draping it around the older woman’s shapely hips. “What do you think, Seregil?”
    “Perfect! The pair of you are a vision of loveliness not to be outdone by all the titled heads of Rhíminee.” Indeed Myrhichia looked as beautiful as her benefactress in midnight-blue silk stitched with crystal beads, and matching hairpins glittering in her dark hair. “You look like the night sky in Bôkthersa, full of stars and mystery,” he told her, kissing her cheek.
    “But where is Alec?”
    “Indisposed, I’m afraid.”
    “Oh, and I was so looking forward to teasing him a bit!”
    When the women had completed their adornments to their mutual satisfaction, the three of them strolled arm-in-arm to the Red Hart, glittering among the evening crowd and drawing admiring glances from many they passed. At the elegant tavern the master of the house escorted them to the private room Seregil had reserved for the evening.
    Laneus, Malthus, and their ladies soon joined them, and introductions were made all around. Malthus and Ania knew the two courtesans, and greeted them warmly, as did Laneus and his young wife. Eona seemed particularly thrilled to meet the famous Eirual.
    They dined on poached butterfly fish, jellied eel, raw oysters, warm sesame bread, dishes of olives and pickled vegetables, and a rare Mycenian white wine of excellent prewar vintage.
    The courtesans were charming as always, and Seregil could see Eirual’s tutelage in Myrhichia’s sparkling conversation, and her knowledge of current events and politics. Sheand Laneus had a spirited debate over the tax on gemstones, and ended the argument with laughter.
    Seregil watched the two men with veiled interest; both gave every indication of being delighted to dine with him, and their ladies expressed great concern over Alec’s supposed fever. His wound was remarked upon and Laneus’s shock at the story of how Seregil and Alec had been waylaid by assassins seemed quite genuine, but perhaps not as violent as Malthus’s, who went white to