Casket of Souls

“It’s pride on the queen’s part, plain and simple. Nothing short of total victory will suffice for her.”
    “Could that ever be?” wondered Reltheus. “These wars against Plenimar never quite end, do they? No matter who wins, within a decade or two they’re at it again.”
    “I believe one of the sticking points of the truce offer was that Skala would finally take possession of sacred Kouros,” said the ruddy man. “The Plenimarans refused.”
    The blond nobleman puffed at his pipe. “A tiny, useless island, Stenmir. She should let them have it. The Hierophants went from there to Plenimar, after all.”
    “It’s the birthplace of all the Three Lands, Tolin,” Stenmir reminded him. “Skala, Mycena, and Plenimar all have a legitimate claim.”
    “Small and useless,” Tolin grunted around his pipestem.
    “There was a great deal more to the terms of the truce than that. But whatever the case, it’s bankrupting us.” Kyrin put aside his cup and stood to tap out his pipe on one of the dolphin-shaped fire irons. “This has to stop. It’s breeding dangerous unrest. There have already been grain riots.”
    “I don’t suppose you’ve heard any more from Danos?” Stenmir asked Reltheus.
    There was that name again.
    The duke took a folded missive from his coat pocket and handed it to him. The others rose to read over his shoulder.
    “Commander Klia has Sakor’s luck, doesn’t she?” Tolin remarked, frowning.
    “So it’s always seemed,” Kyrin replied with a sigh. “It would be best if circumstance worked to our favor, but she seems to be especially blessed. Now, however, I think it’s time we went back to the ladies.”
    The others knocked the dottles from their pipes and followed him out, leaving Alec with nothing but the laughter of the women and a vague sense of dread. It appeared thisDanos was indeed their spy and that Reltheus and the others weren’t on Klia’s side. Or the queen’s, either.
    Alec was about to go back the way he’d come when he heard the marquise inviting her guests to come out onto the balcony to enjoy the night air. That room lay between him and the drainpipe, and the balcony was far too high to jump from without risking a broken ankle. Instead, he slipped in through the library window and pressed himself against the wall beside it. He could hear the women walking up and down the balcony, talking of the latest play at the Tirari. Mallia said something Alec didn’t quite catch.
    “I’ll ask him,” the marquise’s daughter replied, and Alec heard her coming his way. There was nowhere to hide except behind one of the long tapestries. It was a terrible hiding place under any circumstances, but especially in a brightly lit room, where the girl might notice the slight bulge in the fabric, or his broken beggar’s shoes visible beneath the lower edge. He didn’t dare risk taking a look, but could hear her moving about the room.
    “Father’s not here,” she called out at last. “I’ll go find him.”
    Alec heard the inner door open and shut. He waited a few breaths, then cautiously peered out from his hiding place. The other women remained on the balcony, making it impossible to leave.
    He leaned back against the wall again, resigning himself to a long wait. He wanted a look inside that locked cabinet.
    It was hot behind the tapestry, and dusty. As Lady Mallia went on about some other play just outside the window, Alec’s nose began to itch. He squeezed it between two fingers, hoping to kill the urge to sneeze, but that only made it worse. Still holding his nose, he pressed his other hand to his mouth and choked back a short succession of sneezes, nearly at the expense of his eardrums.
    And still the women talked on. His back began to ache from pressing himself as flat as he could against the wall behind him, and he could feel his overtaxed arm muscles beginning to stiffen up. Worse yet, he had to sneeze again.
    As he stood there wishing them all to Bilairy’s gate, the door opened again and he heard someone moving around theroom. Little by little, the room went dark and he heaved a silent sigh of relief. It must be a servant. A moment later the door closed again. Better yet, the women finally went indoors.
    As he sidled out from behind the tapestry, the shoulder of his shirt caught on something. He took out the lightstone and discovered a small door set into the wall at about eye level, with a tiny handle and a brass lock plate. The plate looked solid, but