Casket of Souls

down a side street and reined his horse around.
    “What is it?”
    “I could swear I just saw Atre pass under a street lantern down there.”
    Seregil shrugged. “His old Basket Street theater isn’t far from here.”
    “What would he be doing back there?”
    “Who knows? Come on.”
    The Stag and Otter was shuttered for the night. They approached carefully, making sure not to be seen coming here in noble dress.
    Entering the darkened kitchen, Seregil went to the broadmantel over the hearth and took down the large painted pitcher that stood in the center of it. Inside were two folded parchment packets, both sealed with wax that bore no emblem.
    Alec shook his head. “More work! Just what we need.”
    Upstairs they lit a few lamps. Seregil sat down on the couch and told Alec all he’d heard on the island.
    “You think they tried to assassinate Klia?” Alec exclaimed. “By the Light, Seregil, how could Korathan not know? The news should have been all over the city!”
    “Not if he didn’t want it to be. As vicegerent, he has to keep the peace and he doesn’t need any fuel being heaped on the fire of unrest he’s already contending with. I just can’t imagine Thero not knowing. It will be interesting to see what he has to say about it. But now to these.”
    Alec leaned over Seregil’s shoulder to read with him as he opened each letter.
    “Another bauble delivery,” Seregil said as he read the first one. Tossing it aside, he opened the second and showed it to Alec. “Just as I thought.”
    “Someone wants us to burgle Malthus’s house?”
    “Yes, and look at this clever phrasing. For ‘any missives of interest to the queen.’ ”
    “That must have been what you heard Reltheus and the others talking about.”
    “I’d say so. Reltheus must have sent this before we sailed this morning. Does the handwriting look familiar to you?”
    “No, but the sender might have had someone else write it for them.”
    A great cloak of secrecy surrounded the workings of the Cat, requiring any message back and forth to pass through a number of trusted hands. Not only did this system protect the Cat from being unmasked, but it made their noble patrons feel safe dealing with them. Whatever they found would be passed to one of several people, who would pass it on to others, until it reached the agent of the person buying their services. Money changed hands in the same manner.
    “It’s risky. If he caught us, knowing who we are?” Alec shook his head doubtfully.
    “It’s riskier for Malthus if we don’t, though, Alec. If the Cat doesn’t take the job, whoever sent this will just employ a less sympathetic, and probably less discreet agent. And it’s hardly the first time we’ve burgled the house of someone we know. The Cat would be out of a job if we made such distinctions!”
    “I suppose so.”
    Seregil went to the desk, took out a piece of charcoal he kept for the purpose, and scrawled
Yes
in crooked letters across the missive. Resealing it with tallow from a cheap candle, he disappeared downstairs to return it to the pitcher for delivery. Ema’s husband was the first of many couriers, taking the Cat’s replies to a run-down tavern called the Black Feather, where Seregil, in disguise, of course, had an agreement of many years with the landlord.
    And so it began.

 
    T HEY found Thero in the Orëska garden the following morning, with a silver trowel in one hand and a flat gardener’s basket in the other. His hands were uncharacteristically dirty, as was the front of his long canvas apron, and his dark curls were sweat-plastered to his forehead. So far Lenthin was showing no sign of being cooler than the previous two months.
    Thero’s basket was filled with roots of various shapes and sizes, elements for spell work. Such gathering had to be carefully done, often with the aid of spells, and could not be left to servants.
    “When are you going to take on an apprentice for this sort of thing?” Seregil chided, dismounting to greet him.
    “When and if I find the right child,” Thero replied.
    “Then you’re looking, finally?” asked Alec.
    Thero sighed. “We’ve only had six children presented here since Mourning Night, and none of them were suitable for me.”
    “What are you looking for?”
    “Nysander once told me, ‘You’ll know when you’re ready, and you’ll know them when you meet the right person.’ I understand now what he meant.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re getting lonely in