Casket of Souls

And no sign of what killed any of them.”
    “You really don’t think it was just age with Laneus and Kylith, at least? And Kyrin wasn’t young, either.”
    “Too many deaths in one small circle in such quick succession, Alec, and not their wives, husbands, children, and so forth. It stinks of treachery.”
    They spent the rest of that day making the rounds of what was left of Kyrin’s circle, offering condolences and subtly probing for more information. There were thinly veiled references to poison and enemies, but nothing definite, even from Reltheus, though he was clearly shaken.

 
    T HINGS did not improve when two days later Kepi appeared with more bad news.
    “Duchess Nerian’s dead,” Kepi said, perched on the rain butt outside the kitchen door, eating his latest free meal. “She was a friend of Duke Laneus, right? I seen her at his house plenty a’ times.”
    “Dead how?” Seregil demanded.
    “Way I heard it from one of the other boys, she was found in her garden this mornin’ strangled.”
    Seregil paid him and sent him on his way. “Well, that certainly sounds like a reprisal, doesn’t it?”
    An hour later Kepi was back with news that Earl Kormarin, a known friend of Malthus’s, was found bloated and floating in the inner harbor at the end of Crab Quay with a knife wound between his shoulder blades. According to Seregil’s assassin friend, Nerian and Kormarin were both commissioned killings: Nerian by Reltheus, and Kormarin by Malthus.
    “The two cabals have declared war on each other,” said Alec when Seregil came home with the news.
    “And saved Korathan the trouble of arresting all of them.”
    The following day word came that one of Princess Aralain’s ladies-in-waiting had simply dropped dead in the act of pouring her mistress a dish of tea, and one of Duke Reltheus’s pages had been found dead in a garderobe. The Noble Quarter was in a panic.
    “What in Bilairy’s name is going on?” Alec exclaimed as they sat in the library, trying to make sense of it all.
    Seregil took out pen and parchment and began to write names and draw lines between them. “Laneus, a Klia supporter; Tolin, an Elani supporter; Alarhichia, on Tolin’s side; Kyrin; now Kormarin, perhaps a conspirator we missed. Now Nerian, also a Klia supporter.”
    “But why the lady-in-waiting and the boy?”
    Seregil gazed out the window at the street below, where a cart laden with household goods and luggage was rattling by. “Accidents, perhaps? They somehow got the poison intended for their master or mistress?”
    “I doubt they’re doing their own killing, don’t you?”
    “Yes. So I think I’ll go have a talk with my friend in Knife Street.”
    Seregil disappeared in search of his informer in the assassins’ guild, and returned in a few hours, looking unhappy.
    “As far as my friend knows, only Kormarin’s killing, Tolin’s, and Nerian’s were commissioned with the guild,” he told Alec as they sat in the garden. “He knew nothing of any other murders by the guild, though they’re certainly adept at poisoning.”
    “Could your informer be lying?”
    “He hasn’t in the past. The Cat is very generous.”
    “My lords?” Runcer called to them from the dining room door. “There is a summons from Prince Korathan. He wishes to speak with you at once.”
    Seregil and Alec exchanged an apprehensive glance, then went to dress for court.
    It was not a long ride from Wheel Street to the Palace, but by the time they’d reached Silvermoon they’d already seen five costly carriages rattling away toward the Harvest Market with baggage lashed on behind.
    Near Ruby Street they encountered a mob of the poor, once again protesting the quarantine and shortages of food.
    As Seregil turned his horse to try to ride through thecrowd, he caught sight of Atre down the street, mounted on a glossy bay. The actor waved and rode over to join them.
    “Have you come to see the commotion, too, my lords?” he asked.
    “No, we have other business,” said Alec.
    “There was talk of it at the theater last night. Such a tragedy, this strange plague! But I was actually on my way to see you.”
    “A bit of news?” asked Seregil.
    “Yes, my lord.” Leaning over in the saddle, he spoke softly in Seregil’s ear. “Earl Kormarin. I saw him at a dinner with Duke Reltheus the day before he was killed. And now he turns up dead!”
    “Yes, I know about that.”
    “Ah, but I know a bit of what the conversation was. I