Luck in the Shadows

down here, but I'm sure we can come up with something. More signing and palming tricks, maybe. That's something you have to keep at or you'll lose it."
    Wriggling out of the wrinkled garment, he lifted a fresh gown from the trunk and dropped it over his head.
    When Alec had pulled the lacings snug, he carefully draped a gauzy wimple over his hair, binding it with a silk cord and arranging the folds to spread gracefully over his shoulders. In addition to the garnet ring, he added a heavy chain of twisted gold and large pearl earrings.
    "Illior's Fingers, I'm famished," he said as he finished. "I hope I can manage to eat in a ladylike fashion. What's for supper? Alec?"
    The boy was regarding him with a perplexed expression.
    Blushing a bit, he blinked and replied, "We're having stewed fowl. I dressed out the birds for the cook while you were asleep." He paused, then added with a grin, "And from what I heard from the sailors today, this disguise of yours is working."
    "Oh? What did they have to say?"
    "The cook claims he's never seen the captain so taken with a woman. Some of the others are taking bets on whether he'll have his way with you before we reach Nanta."
    "Highly unlikely. I trust you to see to your duty, Squire Ciris, until we're safely ashore."
    Rhal opened the door at their knock.
    He'd donned a fusty velvet coat for the occasion and had given his beard a proper trimming as well.
    With an inward groan, Seregil presented his hand and allowed himself to be escorted in.
    "Welcome, dear lady!" Rhal exclaimed, pointedly ignoring Alec as he drew Seregil's arm through his own. "I hope you'll find everything to your liking."
    A small table stood neatly set for three, the wine already poured, fine wax candles alight in place of the malodorous oil lanterns.
    "Why, you look fresh as a spring rose at dawn," he went on, seating Seregil with practiced courtesy. "It pained me to see you looking so peaked this afternoon."
    "I'm much better, thank you," Seregil murmured. Alec gave him a quick wink behind Rhal's back.
    Both fowl and wine proved to be excellent.
    Conversation during the meal was somewhat strained, however.
    Rhal made little effort to include Alec, and replied somewhat stiffly when the boy made several pointed allusions to Lady Gwethelyn's fictitious husband. Having grown accustomed to his part, Alec was clearly beginning to revel in it.
    "You must give us news from the south, Captain,"
    Seregil interjected when a particularly grim pause threatened.
    "Well, I suppose you've heard about the Plenimarans?" Rhal took a large, blackened pipe from a nearby rack. "With your permission, my lady? Thank you. Before we sailed from Nanta the week before last, news came through that the old Overlord, Petasarian, was ailing again and not expected to last long. That bodes ill for the rest of us, if you ask me. Being Skalan born, I don't care much for the Plenimarans, but Petasarian has held to the treaties these last five years. That heir of his, young Klystis, is another matter. They say he's been ruling in all but name this last year, and it looks to most like he's sharpening up the swords again. Rumor has it that he may even have a hand in the old man's illness, if you take my meaning. What I pick up along the coast is that there's a good many in Plenimar who think the Twelfth Treaty of Kouros should never have been signed, and that those who say so are anxious to get Petasarian out of the way so his son can set things to rights."
    "Do you think there could be a war?" Seregil effortlessly counterfeited feminine alarm.
    Rhal puffed sagely at his pipe. "Skala and Plenimar hardly know what to do with themselves when they're not killing each other off, though I hold the Plenimarans are generally the ones to kick the beehive. Yes, I think they're getting ready to go at it again, and mark my words, this time it'll be a bad one. Those that have business over that way say that there's an uncommon amount of ship building going on in Plenimaran ports. The press gangs are out in force, too. Sailors are getting shy of taking shore leave there."
    This was fresh news to Seregil, but before he could pursue it further they were interrupted by the cabin boy who'd been sent in to clear the table. While the cloth was being changed, Rhal unlocked a small cabinet over his bunk and brought out a dusty decanter and three small pewter cups.
    "Aged Zengati brandy. Quite rare," he confided as he poured. "My trade connections in Nanta give me