Shadows Return

together just inside the entrance to the garden. One was smoking a pipe and the sweet smell of the tobacco permeated the night air. Keeping close to the wall, Seregil silently closed in on them, glad their attention was focused on conversation rather than paying attention to their work. As he got closer, he saw with a certain degree of satisfaction that these were the men who’d beaten him so badly.
    Perhaps Yhakobin had his best men out on the hunt. These two went down without a sound. He cut one throat, then the other before either of them realized what danger they were in, then stabbed each one through the heart. The death rattles were hardly over before he’d stripped them both of their sword belts and buckled one on. When he was done he arranged the bodies slumped against the wall, as if they’d fallen asleep on duty. With a last glance into the central courtyard of the house, he retrieved his bundle from the roof and ghosted across to the workshop door.
    “Seregil…” Ilar rose unsteadily to his knees and held out both hands to him, whispering, “Seregil, please…help me.”
    Seregil walked back to him, sword in hand. “Help
you?
” he whispered in disbelief.
    “Kill me, then! I can’t face the markets again.” He broke off with a strangled little sob. “Please, Haba, take your revenge, I beg you!”
    Why am I hesitating?
Seregil wondered.
Isn’t this what I’ve dreamed of, all these years?
    But this wasn’t how he’d imagined it, with his prey already bound and humbled by another’s hand.
Just be done with it. It’s a kindness if nothing else…
    As he raised the blade, a hand closed over his wrist.
    Badly startled, Seregil whirled around, ready to strike.
    But it was Alec. The younger man was dressed in an ill-fitting robe and armed with a kitchen knife. Seregil slapped the blade aside and grabbed him in a desperate kiss, knowing they could both be dead before the night was out. Alec’s fingers dug into his back as the younger man clung to him.
    It took an act of will to pull away, but Alec’s lips tasted of metal and Seregil quickly checked him for blood. “Are you hurt? How did you get out?”
    Alec took what looked like a hairpin out of his mouth. “I used this. I heard a ’faie had escaped and hoped it was you,” he whispered back. “Why were you going to kill Khenir?”
    This was no time for proper introductions. “He asked me to. You heard what Yhakobin said.”
    “I know. That’s why we’ve got to take him with us.”
    “I can help you,” Ilar quavered. “I know a way out of this house. Under the workshop.”
    “And you never used it?” Seregil muttered, skeptical.
    “I didn’t dare. Not alone. I—I took care of Alec. I protected him!”
    “He did,” said Alec. “I can’t just leave him.”
    “He’s in no condition…” Seregil began, then gave up. It would be quicker and safer to get them all inside, then see if Ilar was lying.
    That was what Seregil told himself, anyway.
    Alec kissed him again and thrust the makeshift pick into his hand. “Meet you in there. I have to get something.” He disappeared into the workshop as silently as he’d come.
    Seregil rounded on Ilar again. “And I’m supposed to trust you? So you can get back into your Ilban’s good favor by betraying us?”
    “He can’t go back on his word. It’s the law,” Ilar whispered, clutching Seregil’s knees. “And the men who will buy me…Oh Aura! If you won’t take me, then kill me!”
    This was the moment. He could kill Ilar or leave him to his fate in the markets.
    Only he couldn’t do it.
    “Shut up and hold still!” The lock was simple and the hasp gave quickly.
    “Thank you, Haba!” Ilar gasped as the chain fell away.
    Seregil yanked him to his feet by his collar. “Call me that again and
nothing
will save you,” he hissed, their faces almost touching. Satisfied with the fear in Ilar’s eyes, he pulled him by the collar into the workshop.
    Inside, the large athanor was burning and threw just enough light for him to see that Alec wasn’t alone, either. He held a young child by the hand—a thin, pale little thing, in a ragged, oversized robe and head scarf.
    “Bilairy’s Balls, Alec! Are you going to take the whole damn household?”
    “Trust me. I’ll explain later.”
    That makes two of us, talí.
    Seregil gave Alec the pick, his dagger, and the other sword, then unrolled his bundle and handed him the clothing he’d prepared for him in the attic. Alec pulled