Luck in the Shadows

Nysander!"
    "It is not a practice of which the Orлska particularly approves," replied the wizard with a meaningful wink. "As it was successful, however, I should like to undertake a brief experiment. Do you recall the spell for lighting a candle?"
    "You want me to try it while I'm in this body?"
    "If you would."
    Nysander placed a candlestick on the casting table.
    Getting to his feet, Seregil held his hand over the candle.
    Micum gave Alec's sleeve a surreptitious tug, whispering, "You might want to stand back a bit, just in case."
    "I heard that," Seregil muttered. Centering his concentration on the blackened wick, he spoke the command word.
    The results were instantaneous. With a rending groan, the polished table split down the middle and fell apart in two neat halves. The candle, still unlit, clattered to the floor.
    They all regarded the wreckage in silence for a moment, then Nysander bent to finger the splintered wood.
    Seregil sighed. "Well, I hope that answered your question."
    "It has answered several, the most significant being that the transformation of magical power was complete.
    Thero should be fairly safe, providing we proceed with all possible haste. There is a great deal to discuss before Alec returns to Wheel Street."
    "I have to go back tonight?" Alec asked, clearly crestfallen at the prospect. "But Seregil only just got—" Seregil gave him a playful cuff.
    "Appearances, Alec, appearances! You're the master of the house in my absence, as well as a possible suspect by the sound of things. We can't have you dropping out of sight with no explanation."
    "Quite right," Nysander agreed. "But we shall lay our plans before you go. Come down to the sitting room, all of you. I expect Seregil would like a decent supper. Thero ate almost nothing tonight."
    "I can feel that!" Seregil patted his lean belly wryly. Following the others downstairs, he touched his face again. An unruly hair on his upper lip tickled a nostril and he smoothed it impatiently.
    "Amazing," he muttered. "I've never cared much for all this hair you people have sprouting out of your faces anyway, but now that I've got it myself-it's absolutely revolting!"
    Micum proudly stroked his heavy red mustache. "For your information, we consider it a sign of virility."
    "Oh?" Seregil snorted. "And how many times have I sat waiting in the middle of nowhere while you scraped away at your chin with a knife and cold water?"
    "It's my fashion," Micum said, giving Alec a wink. "Kari likes it this way—smooth cheeks with a bit of tickle thrown in."
    "It itches," Seregil complained, scratching under his nose again. "Teach me to shave, will you?"
    "You most certainly will not!" Nysander said sternly.
    During supper the others outlined their recent activities for Seregil. He chuckled appreciatively over their adventures in Hind Street but grew serious at Nysander's report.
    "Forging a Queen's Warrant? No wonder Barien was upset. Except for the Queen and Phoria, he's the only person with access to the necessary seals."
    "Rightful access," Micum amended. "What do you suppose this ship, the White Hart , ended up with in
    her hold?"
    Seregil looked to Nysander. "I could probably find out. Three years is a long time, but records would be kept in the shipping master's offices at her port of call. It won't show us her real cargo, I'm certain, but it would be a start."
    "It will probably prove unrelated to the business at hand, yet I should prefer to leave no avenue untried," mused Nysander. "And now let us lay our plans for tomorrow."
    Dawn was only a few hours away when they'd finished, and Alec suddenly gave in to a cavernous yawn.
    "Sorry," he said, yawning again.
    Seregil grinned. "No wonder you're tired. You've been busy!"
    Thero would be a lot better-looking if he'd smile more, Alec thought, surprised at the difference it made.
    What must Seregil's face look like now, with Thero's mind behind it?
    "I'm done in myself," Micum said. "If we're all in agreement on tomorrow's work, Alec and I had better go find our beds before the sun comes up."
    "You're getting old," Seregil scoffed, following them upstairs. "Used to be we'd be up for two or three days before you'd begin to flag."
    "By the Flame, you've got that right! Another few years and I'll be happy to spend my days in a sunny corner of Kari's garden spinning lies for the servants" children."
    At the workroom door, Alec turned for a last look at Seregil in Thero's body. He couldn't imagine a more unlikely