Casket of Souls

if he would be the power behind the throne, as he clearly hoped, or Kyrin?
    At the back of a shelf he discovered a leather box. Inside, padded in blue velvet, were two small, wax-sealed phials. Viscous liquid half filled each, black in the soft glow of his lightstone. Seregil carefully cut the wax seal close to the mouth of each bottle and worked the little plugs out. He sniffed the contents of each phial, then hastily stoppered them again. It was poison, what the assassins called Wyvern Blood—a type of viper’s venom, blended with some other unhealthy ingredients, including blue myrtle, which gave it such a mild but distinctive herbal odor and incredible potency. One scant drop of this in someone’s wine and they’d be dead after the first sip. And even a drysian or wizard couldn’t detect it, since it was such a small amount and not magical. Needless to say, mere possession of this could land a man in the Red Tower. Kyrin was indeed playing a dangerous game, which meant the stakes were very, very high.
    More disturbing still, there was space in the box for one more phial, and the velvet was crushed, as if one had been removed. Could this be what was used on Klia? Doubtful, since she survived.
    So what does Kyrin want, then? Elani on the throne, perhaps, just as much as Reltheus? Or Phoria off it
.
    “Six of one, half dozen of the other,” Seregil muttered as he warmed the poison phials’ wax seals with his breath and fingers and smoothed them back as they had been. It might be what was on those lock traps, or Kyrin could use it on himself in case he was caught. It would give him a far quicker death than Phoria would.
    Seregil put the phials back where he’d found them and went to the desk. It was plainly made, with only one drawer,which was locked and rigged with the same poisoned needles. Someone should tell Kyrin not to use the same device more than once. It gave the rest of them away and made for boring thievery. He loosened the works and pulled the drawer open. Inside was a packet of those copied letters of Elani’s, dating back over a year, and several from Alaya. The contents of both were seemingly innocent, but contained a lot of information about the princess’s daily business, and frequent mentions of her interest in Danos, and her warm feelings for Reltheus, whom she clearly liked a great deal.
    They’ve been at this for a while
, he noted.
Since before Elani met Danos at that hunt last winter
.
    He quickly shuffled through them, wishing he had more time to read them in detail, since there was no question of stealing them or time to copy them. As with the others, nothing of earth-shattering importance jumped out, but anyone with a discerning eye could at least get a sense of the girl herself. Which would be quite useful to anyone trying to find a young man to catch her eye. Or groom one to catch her eye, perhaps.
    And there was one other point of interest: all copies of Elani’s letters were done in the same script. Seregil went back for a second look. The script appeared very similar to that taught to the palace scribes. This looked like a poor attempt to disguise it.
    One way or another, he was going to have to find out who was making these copies.
    Alec followed Malthus’s carriage at a safe distance, and was not surprised when it halted at the gates of Laneus’s villa. The duke’s face was grim as he alighted under the lanterns and was ushered in by the watchman.
    Alec skirted the walls and found a way over into a kitchen yard. From there he made his way into the back garden. As he watched, a light suddenly showed at a window on the ground floor. That was a piece of luck, not having to climb for once.
    Creeping up to the window, he looked into a large diningroom, where the two men were conferring in low tones. The window had been propped open to catch the evening breeze. Alec hunkered down under it, listening.
    “If he knows, then how many others?” Malthus was saying, and he sounded genuinely frightened.
    “Why did you not press him on where he’d heard it?” snapped Laneus. Alec could hear him pacing. “That is the greater question.”
    “I had the impression that he’d heard it from Duke Reltheus.”
    “Ah, yes, his new friend. Lord Seregil and his boy are quite popular in those circles these days.”
    “All the better for us to make use of them, don’t you think?” asked Malthus. “Why else would he have come to me?”
    “Don’t be a fool, Malthus! Seregil could