Luck in the Shadows

be a short fury. I don't fancy sitting in Rhнminee with home so close. I haven't seen my wife in four months."
    "Your what?" Alec asked in surprise.
    Micum gave a wry shrug. "In the midst of all the running and fighting we did up north, I guess the subject never came up. You'll have to come out to Watermead. In fact, if I let slip that you're an orphan, Kari may just come get you herself."
    "Out to where?"
    "Our holding," Micum explained. "It lies up in the hills to the west of the city. During my early days with Seregil we uncovered a plot against the Queen. The leader of it was executed and Idrilain offered us part of his holdings as reward. Seregil never cared much for property, so it fell to me. It's really been more Kari's than mine, what with me being gone so much. She and the girls run it."
    "Girls?"
    Nysander gave Alec a mischievous wink. "This rogue has three daughters, as well."
    "Any grandchildren?" Alec inquired dryly.
    "I hope not! The oldest, Beka, is only a year or two older than you and she's set her heart on a soldiering life. Seregil's promised to get her a commission in the Queen's Horse Guard, damn him. The other two, Elsbet and Illia, are too young yet to be thinking of husbands."
    Yawning suddenly, Micum stretched back in his chair until the seams of his jerkin creaked. "By the Flame, I'm tired. After the riding I did to get here, I could sleep in the middle of the Sea Market and not know the difference. I'd better go after Seregil before I doze off. Before I go, though, there's one thing you must answer me, Nysander." He fixed the wizard with a serious eye. "I'll accept your conditions of secrecy for now. You know you can always trust me—and Seregil, too, for all his bluster. But if this business is half as serious as you make it out to be, are we in danger? I haven't been easy in my mind since I left the Fens.
    "All the way down here I kept seeing Alec and Seregil stretched back over that stone with their chests torn open. And now you tell me he got hit with bad magic. Could Mardus' people have tracked us here from Wolde? And will they follow me home tomorrow?"
    Nysander sighed deeply. "I have had no sign of such pursuit yet. As much as I would like to tell you that there is no danger, that Seregil and Alec eluded their pursuers completely, I cannot be certain of it. But you may believe me, both of you, when I say that no matter what my vow—I will never endanger any of you with false assurances. I shall continue to keep watch over you all as best I can, but you must also be cautious."
    Micum stroked the corners of his mustache, frowning.
    "I don't like it, Nysander. I don't like it at all, but I trust you. Come on, Alec, let's go find Seregil. If he won't cool off on his own, you can help me dunk him in the horse trough."
    They made a quick check of the bedchamber first.
    Seregil's old pack lay open on the clothes chest, along with an untidy pile of maps and parchment scraps. His traveling cloak lay in a heap next to a chair, along with several tunics and a crumpled hat. The tip of one old boot protruded from beneath the coverlet of the bed like a dog's nose. Combs, a ball of twine, a tankard, and fragments of a broken flint lay along the windowsill as if set out for a ceremony.
    "He hasn't stormed off just yet," Micum observed, looking the mess over. "Before we go on, I'd like to hear what happened to you two."
    Once again Alec went over the details of their journey and Seregil's strange malady. When he'd finished, Micum rubbed a hand wearily over the coppery stubble on his chin.
    "That's not the sort of thing a person just walks away from, I grant you. Still, he ought to know that Nysander wouldn't put him off without good reason. I swear, Seregil is one of the smartest people I've ever known, and the bravest, but he's worse than a child when he comes up against something he can't twist around to suit himself." He yawned again heartily.
    "Let's get this over with."
    "Where do we look?" Alec asked, following him out. "He could be anywhere."
    "I know where to start."
    Micum led the way out to the Orлska stables.
    Seregil was in a stall halfway down the mews, currying Micum's exhausted horse.
    "You nearly spavined the poor beast," he said, not bothering to look up as they approached. His boots were soiled with barn muck; dust and horse hair clung to his clothing. A piece of sweat-soaked sacking swung from one shoulder as he worked down the animal's flank. A streak of mud down one wan