Luck in the Shadows

well as the flame emblem worn by the blue-coated riders he'd noticed around the city. Other uniforms were new to him. Soldiers wearing sky-blue tunics stitched with the shining white outline of a soaring hawk stood guard over several herds made up entirely of white horses. Another group wore deep purple, with scarlet serpents forming a complicated knot as their emblem.
    The road was crowded with soldiers, strings of horses, hay racks, and dung carts. To travel any distance afoot was evidently unthinkable in such company. Those having nothing better to do lined the fence rails to watch the activity.
    A few of these idlers, both male and female, greeted him with gestures only slightly less suggestive than
    those of the ragged woman at the hovel. Shocked at the ways of city dwellers, Alec pressed on at a canter to the next gate and emerged gratefully again into the long park behind the Queen's Palace. Nudging his horse into a gallop, he rode to the Harvest Market and the Street of the Sheaf, then east into the city.
    People bustled on all sides, jostling each other as they went about their business. Even the buildings seemed to crowd one another, leaning shoulder to shoulder over the street to trap the din of the passing traffic and echo it back. Alec's discomfort at the proximity of so many people began to well up again.
    Afternoon shadows were lengthening by the time as he reached the Astellus Circle. He paused at the colonnade. Across the way lay the wooded park, bordering the circle's north side. A single street entered the park through a prettily carved stone archway. Richly dressed riders and fancy carriages were coming and going in a steady stream.
    Curious, Alec rode over for a closer look.
    The park embraced the street on both sides and, together with the arch, gave the place a sheltered, almost magical air, as if it might exist quite separately from the crowded city beyond. The villas here had no screening walls and he marveled at the elegance of the facades and gardens. Despite the early hour, each house had one or more colored lamps burning above its entrance. There were only four colors: rose, amber, white, and green. Al though they lent a certain festive tone, their order along the street seemed quite random.
    "Excuse me, sir," Alec ventured, catching the eye of a man coming out from under the arch. "What street is this?"
    "The Street of Lights, of course," the man replied, looking him over.
    "So I see, but what do the lights mean?"
    "If you have to ask that, then you've no business knowing, lad!" Giving Alec a wink, the fellow strode off whistling.
    With a last curious glance down the intriguing avenue, Alec headed for the Orлska House. Myrhini's instructions brought him safely there, and Nysander's guide stone led him back up to the tower door.
    He was just raising his hand to knock when Thero came storming out with an armload of scroll cases. They collided hard enough to knock the wind out of both of them.
    Scroll cases scattered in all directions, rolling and clattering across the stone floor of the passage. One tube flew over the parapet and several startled voices echoed up the atrium as it shattered on the tiles below. Thero glared at Alec for an instant, then began gathering his scattered documents.
    "Sorry," Alec muttered, picking up those that had rolled across the corridor. Thero accepted them curtly and strode off, not bothering to acknowledge that the door had closed behind him.
    Much obliged, I'm sure! Alec thought sourly, standing well to one side as he knocked again.
    Seregil opened the door this time, and he looked remarkably pleased with himself.
    "Gone, is he?" he smirked, letting Alec into the anteroom.
    "What was that all about? He practically knocked me over the railing!"
    Seregil shrugged innocently. "I came upstairs to borrow a book from Nysander but he wasn't here. In his absence, Thero took it upon himself to tell me I couldn't have it. After reasoning with him at considerable length over the matter, I suggested that it was probably his vow of celibacy that keeps him so irritable all the time. I was in the middle of a detailed discourse-based largely on my own personal experience-on the methods he could employ to alleviate his difficulties when he hurried out. Perhaps he means to put my wisdom into action."
    "I doubt it. And isn't it sort of dangerous, teasing a wizard?"
    "He takes himself much too seriously," scoffed Seregil, sitting down at one of the work ables. "How was your