Luck in the Shadows

Micum whispered behind him.
    "Runcer, yes. Go to bed. It's late. Thank you."
    Runcer's wrinkled face betrayed nothing but respectful attention as he bowed good night.
    Retreating hastily upstairs, Alec found his new bedchamber brightly illuminated.
    "He's refurbished it," Micum remarked dryly, looking the place over. "It's very-Mycenian."
    "Is that what you'd call it?"
    The cabinets, chests, chairs, and tall, carved bedstead were all brightly painted with garish fruit and game motifs. The bed hangings, though faded, were richly embroidered with a pattern of pomegranates and wheat. The overall effect was rather overwhelming, even to Alec's untutored eye. The only familiar oh jects in the room were his sword and bow, which lay across the bed.
    "I supposed I'll get used to it," he sighed, drawing a chair up to the fire. "Now tell me about the silverfish."
    "Old Silverfish was a name we gave to a slippery customer Nysander had us track down a few years back," explained Micum. "He was another blackmailer and, like his namesake, he had a talent for disappearing into the woodwork. Seregil had a hell of a time finding his cache. He finally did, though, and I never saw a prettier bit of coggery."
    "How did he do it?"
    "We'll get to that. What else did he tell you?"
    "To depend on you, and that there'd be a lucky moon tomorrow night when I should pray to Illior. I think he means we do the burglary then."
    "Right. We'll pay a daylight visit to Master Alben's shop, look the place over, then do the real work after dark."
    "And if he's right? The bailiff who arrested Seregil had my name, too. If I show up with evidence they'll never believe us!"
    "Probably not. Which means we have to make certain it gets to the Queen some other way. The City Watch, for instance. I daresay they'd welcome the opportunity to arrest a traitor."
    "Sure, but why would the Watch believe us any more than the Queen's Bailiff?"
    "They wouldn't," Micum said with a sly smile. "But Myrhini will."
    "Who?" Alec was too tired to place the name immediately.
    "Princess Klia's friend. She's a captain of the Horse Guard."
    Alec, rubbed his eyelids with the heels of his palms. "Oh, yes, the one who took me to the barracks for a pass that day Seregil had me robbed."
    "The day he what?"
    "Never mind. You think Myrhini will help us?"
    "For Klia's sake, if not for Seregil's. I'll send a message, but I don't expect we'll see her before dawn. You try out this new bed of yours in the meantime. I have an idea tomorrow will be another long day."
    Alec gave a humorless laugh. "I don't think I've seen a short one since I met Seregil!"

27 Hind Street
    Opening his eyes the next morning, Alec was startled to find Runcer bending over him. "Forgive me for the intrusion, Sir Alec, but Sir Micum sent me to wake you." Moving with fossilized dignity, the old man set a steaming pitcher on the washstand.
    The promise of a watery grey dawn filtered in at the window. He couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours. Sitting up, Alec watched the old servant moving about the room at what were apparently his morning duties. After laying out the bath items, he fetched clean linen and a fresh shirt from a clothes chest and laid them out on the foot of the bed.
    Unaccustomed to such ministrations, Alec watched with growing unease. His experiences at the Orлska baths had left him wary of servants.
    What if the man wanted to help him dress? It was unnatural, having another person doing things for him as if he were a child or an invalid. The man's respectful silence only made matters worse.
    "You manage the household, don't you?" Alec asked as Runcer proceeded to brush his cloak. How much, he wondered, did this wrinkled old man know of his real background-or Seregil's, for that matter?
    "Of course, sir," Runcer replied with no discernible change of expression. "Lord Seregil has left instructions that you be made comfortable. Breakfast has been laid in the dining room and Captain Myrhini is expected shortly. Shall I lay out your clothes, sir?"
    "I suppose so."
    Runcer went to another chest for breeches, then creaked to a halt at the wardrobe. "And which coat would you prefer today, sir?"
    Having absolutely no clue as to the contents of the wardrobe, Alec hazarded a guess. "The blue, please."
    "The blue, sir." The old servant took out an outrageously ornate coat stitched with gold beading.
    "Well, maybe not the blue," Alec countered hastily. "I'll decide later."
    "Very good, sir."
    To Alec's