Luck in the Shadows

just long enough for a bath and a hasty meal, Seregil and Alec were ready to move on by
    noon.
    Micum disappeared while they were harrassing the horses they'd left there on the way to Cirna.
    He returned with a longsword.
    "It's not so fine as yours, of course," he said, handing it to Seregil, "but it will do until yours is mended. I'll be easier in my mind, knowing you're armed."
    Seregil ran his hand down the flat of the blade and smiled. "I remember this one. We brought it back for Beka from the Oronto raid."
    "The very one." Micum looked down at the sword, his discomfort more evident than ever. "You know, I
    suppose I could—"
    Seregil cut him short with a farewell embrace.
    "Stay put, my friend," he admonished, speaking softly against Micum's shoulder. "It's just a bit of fancy burglary. You know you're no use at that."
    "Take care of yourselves then," Micum said gruffly.
    "And have Nysander send me word, you hear?"
    "I hear!" Laughing, Seregil swung up in the saddle. "Come on, Alec, before old Grandfather here worries himself grey!"
    As they rode into the Orлska gardens, a familiar deep voice hailed them from the direction of the oak grove. Reining in, Seregil saw Hwerlu cantering out to meet them.
    "Greetings, friends!" the centaur boomed. "It's been many days since you've visited me. I trust all is well with you?"
    "Tolerably," replied Seregil, anxious to be off again. "We're just here long enough to see Nysander, actually."
    "But you've missed him by a day."
    "Missed him?" Alec asked. "You mean he's not here?"
    "No, he and young Thero accompanied Lady Magyana to another city. Some place on the southern coast, I think."
    "Damn!" muttered Seregil. "Come on, Wethis will know."
    "They've gone to Port Ayrie with Lady Magyana," the young servant told them. "They shouldn't be gone more than a few days, though. You can put up here until he returns, if you like."
    "Thanks, but we can't wait." Seregil pulled out the worn manifest and handed it to Wethis with a hastily scrawled note. "See that he gets this and tell him to contact Micum. Tell him I don't expect to be gone more than a few days myself."
    Leaving their Aurлnfaie horses at the Orлska, they set off for the Cockerel.
    "Shouldn't we wait for Nysander?" asked Alec dubiously. "You told Micum we'd speak to him first."
    "The longer we wait, the more chance there is that Kassarie will get suspicious and put up extra defenses."
    "I guess so, but it still leaves just you and me—"
    "Illior's Fingers, Alec, it's just a simple matter of housebreaking, even if it is a keep. We'll probably get back before Nysander does."
    Slipping quietly up the back stairs at the inn, they spent the night in their old rooms and set off the next morning in disguise.
    Alec wore the same apprentice garb he'd used on their first visit to Kassarie's; Seregil was well muffled in the guise of a one-eyed traveling minstrel. Both carried daggers at their belts, but their I swords and Alec's dismantled bow were wrapped out of sight among the gear.
    "This all hinges on you, you know," Seregil reminded Alec as caret they rode along. "It could take a couple of days of wooing before she agrees to let you in."
    "If she does at all," Alec replied uneasily. "What do I say?"
    Seregil gave him a knowing wink. "With a face like yours, I doubt conversation will be the central issue. From what you saw of her last time, I'd say our Stamie is a restless little bird ready to spread her wings. The offer of freedom may be all the charm we need. It's her fear I'm worried about. That's a suspicious, tight-run household, and she may not dare risk her own skin on your behalf. If that's the case, then you'll have to play the lover for all you're worth."
    "Which may not be much," Alec muttered.
    "Illior's Fingers, you're not so bloodless as all that, are you?" Seregil teased. "Use a little imagination and let things run their course. These matters have a way of directing themselves, you know."
    Reaching the road that led up the gorge, they kept to the trees and climbed into the hills overlooking the keep. They left their horses tethered well out of earshot of the tower sentries and made their final approach on foot. Climbing up the tall fir tree they'd used on their first reconnaissance, they surveyed the keep.
    There appeared to be the usual sort of bustle in the courtyard. A groom was currying a fine horse by the stables, and from somewhere below the walls came the sound of a workman's chisel against stone.