Luck in the Shadows

his life, like he belonged, that he was welcome and useful.
    This memory brought with it a momentary stab of guilt at the thought of a certain scrap of parchment carefully concealed at the bottom of his pack.
    Seregil pushed the thought away.
    "Good morning, you two! I hope you are hungry,"
    Nysander said, pushing the teapot their way. Thero acknowledged their arrival with a cool nod.
    Nysander's workroom breakfasts were legendary at the Orлska House: fried ham, honey and cheese, hot oat cakes with butter, and good strong black tea. Anyone was welcome and if you wanted anything else you could bring it yourself.
    "Valerius will be pleased with you, Alec," said Nysander as they sat down. "Seregil is looking much more himself today."
    The boy shot Seregil a pointed glance. "It's none of my doing. He's done just as he pleased ever since Valerius left, but he healed up anyway."
    "I daresay you underestimate your influence over him, dear boy." The wizard turned to Seregil with a rather searching look. "Well now, what are your plans?"
    Seregil could feel his old mentor watching him as he spooned honey onto a piece of oat cake.
    Nysander was waiting for another argument over the scar and, under most circumstances, that's exactly what he'd have gotten. But not this time.
    Concentrating on his breakfast, Seregil replied, "It's time we headed home. With a war brewing for the spring, there ought to be some jobs waiting for us."
    "True," said Nysander. "In fact, I may have a bit of work for you myself."
    "About this new Leran upsurge?"
    "Precisely. I hope to put what details I can before you within a few days."
    Seregil sat back, on safer ground now. "Do you think Vardarus was really mixed up in all that?"
    "I must say, I would never have suspected the man. Yet he signed a full confession, and spoke not one word in his own defense. The evidence seemed incontrovertible."
    Seregil gave a skeptical shrug. "If he'd contested the conviction and lost, his heirs would lose all claim to his property. By admitting his treason, they were allowed to inherit."
    "But if he was innocent, then why wouldn't he have said so?" asked Alec.
    "As Nysander said, the evidence against him was irrefutable," Thero answered. "Letters in Vardarus' own hand were produced. He could have pleaded forgery, or that magic had been used to create them, yet he refused to do so. The Queen had no choice but to pass sentence. With all respect, Nysander, it is possible that he was guilty."
    Seregil tugged absently at a strand of dark hair. "And if he was innocent, what could have enforced such damning silence. He was attached to the Queen's Treasury, wasn't he? I'll need a list of the nobles he associated with in that position, and some idea of his personal habits."
    "I shall see you have all you need," said Nysander.
    Alec found himself studying faces over breakfast.
    Seregil had been unusually pensive, although he seemed to brighten up once he'd gotten some food in him. Thero was as stiff as ever, and Nysander just as easygoing, yet there was something in the older wizard's expression when he looked at Seregil, as if he were trying to figure him out.
    As for himself, Alec realized that he was finally beginning to feel comfortable here. The sense of disorientation that had depressed him during Seregil's recovery had lifted at last. Watching his companion trying to tease Thero into some pointless debate, he sensed that a certain important equilibrium had been reestablished.
    "You are quieter than usual this morning," Nysander observed. catching his eye.
    Alec nodded toward Seregil. "This is more what he was like when we first met."
    "Annoying Thero has always been a favorite pastime of his," the wizard sighed. "For goodness sake, Seregil, let him eat in peace. Not everyone shares your taste for banter first thing in the morning."
    "I doubt there are many tastes Thero and I do share," Seregil conceded.
    "A fact for which I am continually thankful," Thero parried dryly.
    Leaving the two of them to their private battle, Alec turned back to Nysander. "I've been wondering about something you mentioned when we talked that first night."
    "Yes?"
    "You spoke of shape changing spells. Can a person really be changed into anything?"
    "A brick, perhaps?" Thero interjected.
    Seregil acknowledged the gibe with a gallant salute of the honey spoon.
    "That is correct," Nysander replied.
    "Transubstantiation—or metamorphosis, if you will—has always been a favorite subject of mine. I