Luck in the Shadows

cheek gave him a decidedly mournful look.
    Micum slouched against the newel post at the end of the stall. "You acted like a fool back there, you know. I should think you'd want to set a better example for Alec."
    Seregil gave him a sour glance across the horse's back, then went back to work.
    Micum watched the motion of the curry comb for a moment. "You'll speak with Nysander before you leave?"
    "Soon as I finish this."
    "Looks like we won't have to toss him in the trough after all, eh?" Micum grinned at Alec. "And I was looking forward to it."
    Seregil scrubbed at a patch of dry mud, sending up a cloud of dust. "You off to Watermead tomorrow?"
    Micum heard the thinly veiled challenge the question often carried. "At first light. Kari will skin me if I stay away any longer. Why don't you two come out with me? The hunting should be good just now, and we could work on Alec's swordplay. Beka's a perfect match for him."
    "I want to get settled at the Cockerel first," Seregil replied.
    "Suit yourself. You're no use to anyone when you're like this."
    Micum yawned again, then clasped hands with Seregil for a long moment, holding his friend's gaze until Seregil managed a tight, grudging smile.
    Satisfied, Micum released him and clapped Alec on the shoulder. "I'll be asleep before you get upstairs, so it's farewell for now. Luck to you in the shadows."
    "And to you," Alec called after him.
    Upending a bucket, Alec sat down to watch Seregil finish with the horse. "He doesn't stay around long, does he?"
    Seregil shrugged. "Micum? Sometimes. Not like he used to." Something in Seregil's voice warned Alec that this, too, was a subject not to be pursued.
    "What's this Cockerel place we're going to?"
    "Home, Alec. And home is where we're bound tonight." Seregil hung the curry comb on a nail.
    "Give me a minute to square things with Nysander, then come say goodbye."
    Thero answered Seregil's knock. Exchanging their usual terse nods, they strode back through the stacks of manuscripts to the workroom. Walking behind the assistant wizard, Seregil read tension in the set of Thero's shoulders and smiled to himself.
    There had never been any specific basis for their strong mutual dislike, yet it had sprung up full-blown the first time they'd laid eyes on each other. Out of regard for Nysander's feelings, a grudging truce had developed between them. Nonetheless, they'd never been at ease in the other's presence, though either one would have eaten fire before they'd admit it aloud.
    Seregil considered himself to be above such petty emotions as jealousy or envy; so what if Thero had taken his place at Nysander's side, filling it better, in some respects, than he ever had?
    Seregil had no reason to doubt Nysander's personal regard for him, or the importance of their professional association. His continuing dislike of Thero, he'd long since concluded, must be on a purely instinctual level, and thus irreconcilable and probably justified.
    "He's downstairs," Thero informed him, returning to his work at one of the tables.
    Nysander was still sitting pensively by the fire.
    Leaning against the door frame, Seregil cleared his throat. "I was an idiot just now."
    Nysander waved his apology aside. "Come in, please, and sit with me. Do you know, I was just trying to think how long it has been since you spent so many nights under this roof."
    "Too long, I'm afraid."
    Nysander regarded him with a sad smile.
    "Too long indeed, if you could imagine that I would keep anything from you out of distrust."
    Seregil shifted unhappily in his chair. "I know. But don't expect me to just nod and smile about it."
    "Actually, I think you are taking it all rather well. Do you still plan to leave tonight?"
    "I need to get back to work, and Alec's feeling a bit lost. The sooner we get busy, the better we'll both feel."
    "Mind you pace him in his training," Nysander cautioned. "I should not like to see either of you with your hands on the executioner's block."
    Seregil regarded his old friend knowingly. "You like him."
    "Certainly," Nysander replied. "He possesses a keen mind and a noble heart."
    "Surprised?"
    "Only that you would take on such a responsibility at all. You have been solitary for so long."
    "It was nothing I planned, believe me. But as I get to know him better, well—I don't know. I guess I'm
    getting used to having him around."
    Nysander studied his friend's face for a moment, then said gently, "He is very young, Seregil, and obviously has great respect and