Casket of Souls

like it.”
    “The quicker we turn over what we know to Korathan, the better!”
    Seregil looked down at the copied letter again. “No. If this is interpreted as meant for Klia, then it could cast further doubt on her intentions.”
    “What do you really think?”
    “You know what I think, but it’s not enough to convince the prince. Besides, this could be a jilt, something left lying around for us to find.”
    “You think he was expecting to be burgled?”
    “He may have thought that’s why I was inviting him out, to get him out of the way for the evening. Did you leave any sign of being there?”
    “No, of course not!” Then Alec’s face fell. “The window. I had to go out a window in the library and there wasn’t any way to latch it after me. What about you? How were Laneus and Malthus?”
    “Laneus is a cold fellow, and clearly in charge. Malthus may think he has some control over the man, but I doubt it. Laneus asked me to spy on Reltheus for him.” He gave Alec a smirk. “But it does seem a hollow offer, with the assassins and all.”
    “Do you think he’ll keep trying to kill us?”
    “I’ll drop him a tidbit or two to pique his interest. Maybe he’ll find me too useful to murder.”
    Atre carefully locked the door of the dank little room, lit the candle from his shuttered lantern, and bent down to retrieve the casket from under the table. Opening it, he stirred through the jewels, enjoying the play of all those life threads caressing his fingers. So tempting, all of them, but he had one in particular in mind tonight. He found the thick golden chain and laid it out on the table in front of him. The ornate links of worked gold glimmered richly against the rough wood. This was the one Laneus had given him, after insulting him with dinner in the kitchen that night. The man had insulted Lord Seregil, as well, and it amused Atre to be his benefactor’s secret protector, at least in this instance. It was always sweet to take a strong life, and doubly so whenseasoned with revenge. Not to mention the mischief it might wreak among the various conspirators. Nothing in his mother’s teachings had forbidden having a little fun.
    The actor’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile as he took a pair of jeweler’s snips from his workbox and cut off a single link. The concentrated life energy was still strong, even in a piece of the whole; Laneus was an old man, and a powerful one. The gold clinked pleasantly against glass as he dropped it into an empty phial and filled it from the waterskin he’d brought. When the bottle was corked and sealed, he inscribed the ring of symbols into the wax. The spines of light flashed brilliantly, lighting up the room for an instant as the duke’s strong soul was sucked into the water. Atre’s mouth watered with anticipation as he scratched in the final symbol in the center and whispered the words over it. The water turned a milky white as the soul was fixed. Ideally, he would have allowed it to steep for several days before fixing the soul to the elixir, as he did with those of the poor, to increase the potency, but he still had no desire for the “sleeping death” to appear among the nobles just yet. And given the power of the duke’s life force, this elixir would be rich enough even without aging. Kylith’s—made and drunk the same night, as well—certainly had been.
    The duke’s life pulsed against Atre’s hand, making his whole body ache with need. No doubt it would be reported that the man had died suddenly in his bed. Given the duke’s age, it shouldn’t raise eyebrows, any more than had Kylith’s sudden death.
    He wrenched away the warm wax and cork and emptied the draught down his throat. The power hit him like a blow to the belly, then spread out through his body like fire. His vision went white, and searing waves of heat and cold made him shudder with pleasure, even as the bitter flavor of the elixir coated his tongue.
    Atre sprawled across the rude table, waiting for the world to stop spinning, and laughed aloud, voice muffled by the thick walls. He felt—immortal, and the pleasure was all the more sweet, knowing that Duke Laneus was dead.
    Just one more
. The thought flitted across his whirling mind.
Just one …
    Caught up in the euphoria of the elixir, Atre took a golden hairpin set with a small citrine from the box and twirled it between his fingers, making the stone glow like a tiny flame in the lantern light.
    With a dreamy smile he set