Sianim 01 - Masques

who had been a great king by any reckoning. Two years ago, the last time Aralorn had worked a job in Reth, Olin’s words would have gotten him into a rough argument or even a beating.
    Moving unobtrusively, Aralorn took the slop bucket outside to dump it. That done, she strolled to the stables, where Sheen was.
    She received a lot of harassment from Ren when she took the warhorse with her on assignments, because he was too valuable to go unremarked. Talor carried an old coin for luck when he went into battle: It must be much more convenient than a horse.
    She did what she could to disguise his worth. He’d long ago learned to limp on command, which helped somewhat. She also left him ungroomed, but anyone with an eye for horses could see that he was no farmer’s plug.
    At the inn, she’d let it be known that he was the only legacy left to her when her elderly protector died. The innkeeper didn’t ask her too many questions—just retained the better part of her weekly salary in payment and half the stud fees Sheen had been earning.
    Aralorn scuffed her foot lightly in the dirt as she leaned against the stall door. Sheen moved over to her and shoved his head against her shoulder. Obligingly, she rubbed his jaw.
    “The last time I saw Myr, he was hardly distraught enough to go berserk,” she confided. “Convenient that the Assembly decided to place the ae’Magi as Regent. I wonder how he managed that—only in Reth would a mage of any sort be welcome to help himself to the throne. But there are some really strong mages in the Assembly. Hard to believe he could use his magic on them, and no one even noticed.”
    The stallion whickered softly, and Aralorn fed him the carrot she’d taken before it would have gone to its death in some greasy pot of stew. She tangled her hand in Sheen’s coarse gray-black mane as he munched. “I could go to Ren with this, but given his present attitude toward the ae’Magi, I don’t know what he would do—and doubtless he knows about it anyway. Probably supports it the same way those fools in the inn do—and for the same reason.” She tightened her hands in the horsehair, and whispered, “I think we should go looking for Myr, don’t you? Myr is immune to magic—he’s the ideal hero to stand against the ae’Magi. An outcast spy from Sianim isn’t enough to make a difference, but maybe I can help with strategy. At the very least, I can tell Myr why everyone is suddenly against him.”
    There was a noise—she froze for a moment, but it was only the wind rattling a broken board on one of the stall doors.
    Even so, she lowered her voice further. “I only wish I had some way of contacting Wolf. Knowing him, he probably could tell us exactly where Myr went.” Wolf was full of useful information when he chose to share it. “It could take us quite a while to find Myr.” She paused, then smiled. “But if I’m going out to engage in hopeless tasks, I’d rather look for Myr than struggle to clean that floor another day. We’ll start with those messengers and see what they know.”
    Finished with the carrot, Sheen bumped her impatiently—asking for more. “Well, Sheen, what do you say? Should we abandon our post and go missing-monarch hunting?” The gray head moved enthusiastically against her hand when she caught a particularly itchy spot: It looked for all the world as if he were nodding in agreement.
    The restlessness that had been plaguing her was gone. Like a hunting dog let off the leash, she had a purpose at last. She snuck into the kitchen and blessed her luck because no one was there—she could hear the innkeeper arguing with someone in the common room. It sounded as though he might be occupied for a long time, which suited her just fine.
    She located a large cloth that was almost clean and folded it to hold such provisions as would keep on a journey: bread, cheese, dried salt meat.
    Cautiously, she made her way upstairs without meeting anyone and snuck into the room that had belonged to the only son of the innkeeper. He’d died last winter of some disease or the other, and no one had yet had the heart to clean out his room. Everything in the room was neat and tidy—and she had the sudden thought that perhaps it hadn’t been the change in customs that caused the inn to fall on harder times. She murmured a soft explanation of what she was doing and why in case the young man’s spirit lingered nearby.
    She opened the chest at the foot of the bed and found a