Luck in the Shadows

her own, she swept out leaving a light drift of scent in her wake.
    Illior's Fingers! Seregil thought, impressed. What she hoped to gain by seducing Thero was beyond comprehension, but the sooner Nysander knew what was going on, the better.
    To his disappointment, Nysander was more amused than outraged.
    "What are you so upset about?" he asked. "Only this morning you were advocating just such a course of action yourself."
    "Well, yes, but not with his master's lover!" sputtered Seregil.
    "It is not like you to be such a prig," countered Nysander. "I appreciate your concern, but it is quite unwarranted. The lovely Ylinestra and I claim no more hold on one another than we do on the wind.
    "Though I flatter myself that she does take some genuine pleasure in my company, it is my magic that interests her most. She has shown me a few interesting aspects of her own art, too, but it must be apparent to you of all people where my real interest in her lies."
    "A good lay?"
    "Beyond description, dear boy! And as neither she nor I have asked more than the other is prepared to give, we are quite satisfied with the arrangement. At heart, Ylinestra is a vain creature whose sexual tastes run more commonly to the conquest of virginal young men."
    "She's a man-eater, all right. She's always very cool with me though."
    Nysander let out a dry chuckle "I would hardly describe you as virginal. I suspect she also prefers her lovers to be more singular in their tastes than your reputation suggests. It is Alec I would keep an eye on, if I were you. She would have him—what is that colorful phrase of Micum's."
    "On a platter with boiled leeks"?" Seregil snorted. "Thanks for the warning."

30 Down to Business At Last
    By nightfall, suitable explanations regarding the previous night's disturbances had been carefully spread among Alben's Hind Street neighbors.
    The forger, chastened and anxious to be of service, was temporarily reinstalled in his shop under strict but indiscernible supervision.
    An icy drizzle misted down, making for a clammy vigil. Seregil stationed Micum on watch in the alley beneath Alben's window, while Alec monitored the street fronting the building.
    Seregil took up his own position in the shadows of the courtyard.
    As the hours dragged by, he noted grudgingly that he seemed to mind the cold less in Thero's body.
    The man's night vision was rather poor, however, and his sense of taste was hopeless. Overall, Seregil
    reflected, the habitation of another person's body was nothing to be taken lightly. In fact, there was something rather obscene about it; he couldn't scratch without feeling like he was taking liberties, and trips to the privy were decidedly disquieting. It was, he concluded, rather like being forced into bed with a lover you didn't fancy. And it was certainly closer contact with Thero than he ever hoped to experience again. What Thero might be experiencing in his body he didn't care to speculate.
    He was just wondering if he dared risk a stretch when he caught the sound of rapid footsteps from the street. Striding into the courtyard, a cloaked figure rapped softly at Alben's door. The apothecary answered at once, lighting the visitor into the darkened shop with a candle. In the instant both men were framed in the doorway, Seregil got a clear look at the newcomer-a well— dressed man of middle years. In spite of his clothing, however, the unconscious bob of the head he gave Alben in greeting betrayed him; this was a servant out of livery for the purpose of the evening's assignment.
    Alben hung back for an instant, giving the candle a slight sideways jerk before he closed the door.
    This was the signal. Creeping silently to the courtyard gate, Seregil passed it on to Alec.
    He was about to resume his hidden position when he heard the rattle of Alben's latch. Caught in the open, Seregil made a show of heading up one of the tenement stairways. The emissary seemed unconcerned at being observed, even nodding to him as they passed in the yard.
    Seregil waited a slow count of five after the man left the courtyard, then slipped out to see which way he'd gone. Alec motioned to the left. Micum had already been signaled, and together the three set off in pursuit.
    Their man sauntered along at his ease for a few streets, then went into a tavern.
    "You'd better go in. He's already had a glimpse of me," Seregil whispered to Micum. Nodding, Micum sized the place up, then sauntered in.
    Micum Cavish had a particular aptitude