Luck in the Shadows

scraped off the bottom of their boots. Illester, the head manservant, seemed to think I was there to steal the silver and muddy up the carpets. The cooks were the same. The only one who was friendly at all was the scullery maid."
    "Took a shine to you, did she?" asked Micum with a knowing look.
    "I think she's just lonesome, and no small wonder. She asked how I got service in the city. I had to make up a bit, but—"
    "Hold on," Seregil interrupted. "This girl who made eyes at you, did you get her name?"
    "Stamie. She's the head cook's niece."
    "Good work. She could be our key to the back door if we ever need one."
    "So what do we do now?" Micum asked restlessly.
    "Alec can't show up to romance the girl when he's supposed to be on the road back to Rhнminee."
    "I know." Running a hand back through his hair, Seregil encountered Thero's cropped curls and dropped his hand with a grimace. "So far we only have Alec's guess that the papers came here at all. Barien's serving maid could just as well have taken them when she met up with Teukros' man in the tavern."
    "That's not what it all sounded like to me," Alec maintained stubbornly, nettled at this sudden doubt.
    "Yes, but you only caught a few words. It's unwise to base assumptions on scant evidence. You end up leading yourself into all kinds of blind alleys."
    "But what about the horses I saw in the yard?"
    "Were any of them white?"
    "Well, no. But Teukros could have changed mounts there."
    "And ridden home on a different one?" Seregil cocked a skeptical eye at him. "To what end if he's already made no secret of his destination?"
    "But the fact remains that we did see Teukros ride out last night," Alec insisted. "And he did tell his wife he was coming here."
    "A lie to cover his tracks perhaps," suggested Seregil. "There's no reason to assume that he'd tell her the truth."
    "Maybe we should head back to the city and see what Nysander's turned up," suggested Micum.
    "You mean we're just going to leave?" asked Alec.
    Nysander or not, he'd been inside the place and didn't like the feel of it.
    "For now," Seregil said, heading for the horses. "You did a fine job. If nothing else, it was good practice for you."
    Thoroughly let down, Alec stole a last resentful look at the keep looming over the gorge, then hurried away after the others.

32 Nasty Surprises
    As they reached the Sea Gate that afternoon, Seregil was the first to notice that the guard had been doubled.
    "Something's happened," he murmured as they rode into the crowded square.
    "You got that right," said Micum, looking around.
    "Let's see what it is."
    Tight knots of people stood everywhere among the booths, heads together, faces serious. Ignored by their elders, gangs of children ran about wildly, teasing each other and daring their fellows to nick sweets from the unattended stalls.
    Riding up to a small group of gossips, Micum threw back his cloak to show his red Orлska tunic.
    "I've been away from the city. What's the news?" he asked.
    "It's the Viceregent," a woman told him tearfully. "Poor Lord Barien's dead!"
    Alec let out a gasp of surprise. "Illior's Light! How did it happen?"
    "No one's certain," she replied, wiping her eyes with a corner of her apron.
    "He was murdered!" exclaimed a rough-looking character beside her. "Them Plenimaran bastards will be behind it, just you wait and see!"
    "Oh, shut your hole, Farkus. Don't be spreading rumors," growled another man, nervously eyeing Micum's livery. "He don't know nothing, sir. All anyone's heard for certain is the Viceregent was found dead this morning."
    "Many thanks," Micum said.
    Kicking their horses into a gallop, they rode for the Orлska House. Nysander looked pale but composed when he let them in at the tower door.
    "We heard Barien's dead. What happened?" asked Seregil.
    Nysander walked across to his desk and sat down, hands folded on its stained surface. "It appears to have been suicide."
    "Appears?" Seregil sensed some strong emotion behind his friend's carefully controlled manner, but could not guess what it might be.
    "He was found lying peacefully in his bed with his wrists cut," Nysander continued. "The blood had soaked down into the mattress. Nothing appeared amiss until the bedclothes were thrown back."
    "Did you talk to him last night?" asked Alec.
    Nysander shook his head bitterly. "No. He had gone to bed before I arrived. It was so late and there seemed to be no danger of him bolting. I actually—"
    Breaking off, he handed Micum a