Luck in the Shadows

Skalan queen, Gherilain the First."
    "Hold on!" Reaching into his purse, Alec brought out the silver coin. "Is this her, the woman on the coin?"
    "No, that's Idrilain the Second, the present queen."
    Alec turned the coin over and pointed to the crescent ant! flame symbols. "And what do these mean?"
    "The crescent stands for Illior; the flame above is for Sakor. Together they form the crest of Skala."
    Skala! thought Alec as he tucked the coin away. Well, at least I know now where you're from.

3 Seregil Makes an Offer
    Their third morning on the Downs dawned clear.
    Seregil woke first. It had snowed heavily the night before. Luckily, Alec had spotted an abandoned burrow just before sunset and they'd spent the night inside. The hole still stank of its former inhabitants, but it was large enough for the two of them to stretch out in. With the pack and Seregil's saddle jammed in the opening as a windbreak, they'd managed to keep warm for the first time since they'd come onto the Downs.
    Cramped but warm, Seregil was tempted to let Alec's soft, even breathing lull him back to sleep. Looking down at him as he slept, he examined the planes of the boy's face.
    Am I only seeing what I want to see? he wondered silently, feeling again the instinctual twinge of recognition. But there would be time for all that later; for now he had to concentrate on Wolde.
    Giving Alec a nudge, he wriggled out of the burrow. Golden pink light washed across the unbroken expanse of snow surrounding them, its brightness dazzling after several days of sullen weather.
    The horses were pawing at the snow in search of forage and Seregil's belly growled sympathetically at the sight; tired as he was of tough sausage and old cheese, this morning's scant breakfast would exhaust the last of the food.
    "Thank the Maker for a sight of the sun!" Alec exclaimed, crawling out behind him.
    "Thank Sakor, you mean," yawned Seregil, pushing his hair back from his eyes. "Of the Four—Oh, hell, it's too early for philosophy. Do you think we'll make Wolde today?"
    Alec peered hard to the south, then nodded. "Before sundown, I'd say."
    Seregil waded over to the horses and scratched his bay under the forelock. "Oats for you tonight, my friends, and a hot bath and supper for me. If our guide's worth his silver, that is."
    Seregil was uncharacteristically quiet as they rode along that morning. When they stopped to rest the horses at midday, however, Alec sensed something was up.
    Seregil had that same bemused look about him that Alec remembered seeing when he'd offered to rescue him from Asengai's keep, as if he wasn't certain what he was about to do was the wisest move.
    "The other night I joked about an apprenticeship for you," he said over his shoulder as he adjusted his saddle girth. "What do you think of the idea?"
    Alec looked at him in surprise. "As a bard, you mean?"
    "Perhaps apprenticeship isn't exactly the right term. I'm not a guildsman of any sort, much less a bard. But you're quick and smart. There's a lot I could teach you."
    "Like what?" Alec asked, a little wary now but interested.
    Seregil hesitated a moment, as if sizing him up, then said, "I specialize in the acquisition of goods and information."
    Alec's heart sank. "You're a thief."
    "I'm nothing of the sort!" Seregil frowned. "At least not in the sense you mean."
    "Then what?" Alec demanded. "A spy like that Juggler fellow you killed?"
    Seregil grinned. "I'd be insulted if I thought you knew what you were talking about. Let's just say for the moment that I'm acting as an agent of sorts, engaged by an eminently respectable gentleman to collect information regarding certain unusual occurrences here in the north. Discretion prevents me from saying more, but I assure you the goal is noble—even if my methods don't always seem so."
    Hidden somewhere in his companion's suddenly high-flown, convoluted discourse, Alec suspected he'd just admitted to being a spy after all. Worse, he had nothing but Seregil's word that what he was telling, or half telling him, was the truth. Still, the fact remained that Seregil had rescued him when he could more easily have left him behind, and had since offered him nothing but friendship.
    "I imagine you're already fairly skilled in tracking and that sort of thing," Seregil went on casually. "You say you're a fair shot with a bow, and you made good use of that ax, now that I think of it. Can you handle a sword?"
    "No, but—"
    "No matter, you'd learn quickly enough, with