Casket of Souls

calendar,” Seregil promised.
    Their friend, Eirual—yet another of Seregil’s past lovers—who owned one of the most elegant pink-lantern brothels in the Street of Lights, swept in soon after with several of her protégées. The queen had set the fashion for higher necklines. Eirual and her courtesans led the fashion and flouted it all at once; their gowns featured bodices made of colorful jeweled lace and high lacy collars, but sheer enough to still offer a tantalizing hint of the assets beneath.
    Eirual was half Zengati, and her exotic beauty had made her fortune in the Street. But it wasn’t only her looks; she enjoyed life to the fullest and made sure those around her did, too. The lovely Myrhichia was with her, her dark, elaborately coiffed hair sparkling with sapphire hairpins.
    “My darlings!” Eirual cried, kissing them both soundly. “Why in the names of all the Four don’t you have a country house to whisk me away to?”
    “And rusticate away from the delights of the city?” Seregil shuddered. “I wouldn’t last a week!”
    “And yet you’re always disappearing.” Lady Syllia and hercurrent lover, the celebrated actress Lavinis, had come up behind Eirual and stood there, smirking at Seregil. Seregil could smell wine on their breath from here. “Where
do
you two get off to, anyway?”
    “Other cities, I assure you,” Seregil said with a laugh. “I have all my ventures to oversee. Not all of us were born to fortunes.”
    Seregil and Alec’s occasional disappearances did cause talk, but over the years Seregil had gotten very good at spinning yarns boring enough that his listeners seldom asked for details, and Alec had easily picked up the habit.
    As more guests arrived, Seregil waved to the musicians and they struck up a lively tune, not for dancing yet, just to keep things festive. Everyone was gravitating toward the well-laden tables at the far end of the room, which featured more than a few contraband delicacies shipped in from Aurënen and Zengat. Illia and the boys had already found playmates and disappeared into the garden.
    As Alec mingled with his guests, he found Thero gazing around with a rather odd expression.
    “What’s wrong?” Alec asked.
    “Nothing, I just thought I felt—No, it’s nothing. Wonderful party, Alec.”
    “I’m glad you’re here. And guess who else is?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Atre, the Mycenian actor we told you about!” Alec looked around for Atre. “I don’t see him, but he’s here somewhere. If I find him I’ll introduce you.”
    Thero looked less than enthused at the idea.
    “And you
are
going to come to the theater with us,” Alec chided. “You spend too much time up in that tower of yours.”
    “I will, at some point. I’m very busy.”
    Alec grinned. “So you’re always saying. Well, I’m glad you came tonight.”
    Seregil appeared out of the crowd and took Alec’s arm. “Time to begin, talí. It’s up to you to do the honors.”
    “I’ll talk to you later, Thero,” Alec said as Seregil led himaway to the feast. “And I’m holding you to going to the theater—”
    But the wizard had already disappeared into the crowd, no doubt to avoid making any promises.
    There was no sign of the summer’s deprivations here. Stacks of flat parsley loaves were piled on the table beside platters of cold sliced duck, boiled lobsters, butter fish, and bowls of little whelks in vinegar, as well as roasted vegetables with lemon sauce. Fruit tarts and spun sugar animals crowded another table. Anat, the young scullion, was stationed there, guarding the food from the hounds, who were lurking among the guests, yellow eyes fixed hungrily on the food.
    Alec picked up a loaf of bread and tore it in two, then poured the libation to the Four, signaling the beginning of the feast.
    When the meal was done and the sweet wine was being passed, there were gifts to be opened and admired—gloves, rings, earrings, expensive gaming stones, wines, embroidered handkerchiefs from several young ladies, and the like. Given the current privations, much of it was probably secondhand. Alec lingered just long enough over each one, and then it was time for magic and dancing.
    “Shall I?” asked Thero.
    “If you would,” Seregil replied with a wink. “Runcer, please fetch the children.”
    Over the years it had become something of a tradition for Seregil’s various wizard friends to bring the salon mural to life. The leafy grove, with its distant view of the