Casket of Souls

packs!” Seregil chuckled at the image. “Let’s see. Lady Lania is cuckolding her husband with two different lovers and no one knows whose child she’s carrying. Duke Northus’s wife ran away because he beat her once too often. Korathan’s beautiful young Lord Byris gorges on sweets behind closed doors, and keeps his figure by tickling the back of his throat with a goose feather to bring them all up again. Lady Mora is sleeping with Lady Stania. The usual foolishness.”
    “I overheard something more interesting than that.” Alec told him of the conversation between Malthus and Nerian. “I thought they were friends, but they sounded angry.”
    “The heat and the shortages are rubbing tempers raw. When Phoria comes back, things will calm down.”
    “That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone grumbling against the ’faie.” Alec tugged gently on a lock of Seregil’s long hair. “You call attention to yourself, you know.”
    “We’re ’faie, Alec,” Seregil said, eyes fluttering shut. He wound his fingers in Alec’s thick hair. “At least I am, as far as anyone knows, and obviously you’re in my thrall. No one cares—” He yawned again. “—how long our hair is. And Phoria isn’t happy with us anyway, after we cocked up that last job.”
    “Maybe not, but it’s things like that that are dividing the nobles,” Alec mused. “How can Phoria go out of her way to insult an ally like Aurënen when they’re her greatest source of help now that Mycena is ravaged? And this talk of the queen not considering the truce? Do you think that may have something to do with whatever it is Reltheus and Kyrin are up to?”
    “Too soon to tell.”
    Alec grinned as he ran a finger down Seregil’s cheek, admiring the smooth, beardless skin. “That actor was certainly doing his best to charm you.”
    “Me and everyone else.” Seregil caught Alec’s hand and looked down at him. “Did it bother you?”
    “No, talí. He’s just vain and wants your money.”
    “Our money. And you’re right about that. Seems we’re about to own a partial interest in a theater.”

 
    T HE next day Seregil went to speak with Thero about what they’d learned at the party, and Kari went out with Elsbet and Illia to buy fabric. Alec remained behind with Micum and the boys to practice shooting in the garden. The new Radly already felt familiar in his hands, but too much city living threatened to dull his skills. Gherin and Luthas had toy bows, and Micum and Alec were teaching them how to use them, amid much laughter.
    Runcer leaned out the dining room door. “My lord, Master Atre is here.”
    “Send him out,” said Alec.
    The actor greeted Alec and Micum warmly and produced pennies out of the air for the boys, earning delighted laughter and a hug from each of them.
    “You certainly have fine children, Lord Micum,” he said when the boys had run off to play again. “And please, don’t stop what you’re doing on my account! I heard a great deal about Lord Alec’s skills as an archer last night.”
    “All true,” Micum assured him. “I’ve never seen the like.”
    “I’d love to see for myself, if it’s not impertinent of me to ask.”
    The man’s manner was less fawning and flowery today, Alec noted, wondering if it was the lack of wine or the present audience. Taking up his bow again, Alec sent four shafts in quick succession into the center of the bull’s-eye target at the far end of the garden, then framed them with a star pattern of five more.
    Atre clapped appreciatively. “The praise I heard was no exaggeration, my lord. You must be a formidable huntsman. Or were you a soldier?”
    “Hunter.” Alec set the bow and
shatta
-decked quiver aside on a stone table. “Can I offer you something to drink? We’re sticking to cider today, but there’s wine if you’d prefer.”
    Atre patted his flat belly. “Cider, please! I’m still a bit delicate.”
    Runcer brought another cup and they sat down in a shady corner, enjoying the scents of the summer flowers and herbs around them. The conversation turned naturally to the theater, and Atre enthusiastically described his latest play and the theater in Gannet Lane where he hoped to move his company as soon as their fortunes increased. He was clearly angling for money, but his obvious love of his craft was contagious and Alec found himself asking questions about acting and theaters. Micum asked a few questions himself.
    “Lord Seregil said that he’d