Sianim 01 - Masques

scarred up, but I ’membered meself when he were a tyke he looked a lot like you, sire.”
    “And why did it take you so long to report this?”
    “You weren’t here, sire.”
    “I see.” The ae’Magi felt uncouth rage coil in his belly. Cain had been here, here . “Which prisoner did he take?”
    As if he had to ask. Dead, she’d told him. Cain was dead. And he’d believed her—so much so that when he found someone sneaking around in his territories, he’d never even considered it might be Cain.
    “That woman Lord Kisrah brought in, sir.”
    There was a darned patch on the guardsman’s shoulder. It had been so well done that the ae’Magi hadn’t noticed it until he got closer. He would see to it that the guardsmen’s uniforms were inspected and replaced when necessary. No one in his employ should wear a darned uniform.
    This guardsman, the ae’Magi thought, enjoying himself despite his anger, wouldn’t be needing a new uniform ever again. He took his time.
    “Clean up the dust and leave me.”
    Shuddering, the sixteen-year-old silk merchant’s daughter swept the ashes of the guard into the little shovel that was kept near the fireplace. She did a thorough job of it but wasted no time.
    After she had gone, he sat and ran his finger around one of the burls on his desk.
    “I had him,” he said out loud. “I had the bait, and he came—but I lost my chance. I should have felt it, should have known she was something more.” He thought about the woman. What had been so special about her that would attract his son?
    Moodily, he took the stopper off the crystal decanter that sat on a corner of his desk and poured amber wine in a glass. He held it up to the light and swirled the liquid, admiring the fine gold color—the same shade as Cain’s eyes. He tipped the glass and drank it dry, wiping his mouth with his wrist.
    “There are, however, some compensations, my son. I know that you are actively working against me. You cannot remain invisible if you want to move to attack, and I will find you. The woman is the key.”
    He whispered a minor summoning spell and waited only a short time before he was answered by a knock on the door. At his call, the Uriah who had once been a Sianim mercenary entered the study. The mercenaries had made fine Uriah. They were lasting longer than the ones he made from peasants. This one might last years rather than months. The old wizards had done better—theirs were still functioning though they had been created in the Wizard Wars.
    He wished the second half of that book hadn’t been destroyed. He’d been looking for another copy of it for years, but he feared that there were no more.
    “You’re that one who told me that you were familiar with the woman you took from Myr’s campsite?” the ae’Magi asked.
    The Uriah bowed his head in assent.
    “Tell me about her. What is her name? Where do you know her from?”
    Another problem with the Uriah, besides longevity, the ae’Magi had found, was that communication was not all that it could be. Information could only be gotten with detailed questions, and even then a vital fact could be left out. They were good soldiers but not good scouts or spies.
    “Aralorn. I knew her in Sianim,” it replied.
    Sianim. Had his problem spread beyond Reth?
    “What did she do in Sianim?”
    The Uriah shrugged carelessly. “She taught quarterstaff and halfstaff. She did some work for Ren, the Spymaster, I don’t know how much.”
    “She worked as a spy?” The ae’Magi pounced on it.
    “Ren the Mouse doesn’t formalize much. He assigns whoever he thinks will be useful. From the number of her unexplained comings and goings, she worked for him more often than most.”
    “Tell me more about her.”
    “She is good with disguises and with languages. She can blend in anywhere, but I think she used to be Rethian.” The Uriah smiled. “Not much use with a sword.”
    He’d liked her, the ae’Magi thought. The man had liked her. The Uriah was nothing more than a hungry beast, but he remembered what the man had known.
    And then the Uriah said, “Ran around with a damned big wolf. Found him in the Northlands and took him home.”
    “A wolf?” The ae’Magi frowned.
    “Those yellow eyes made everyone jumpy,” the Uriah said.
    The ae’Magi remembered abruptly that he’d recently had another escape from his castle. The girl had been aided by a wolf—or wolf pack—that had killed a handful of the ae’Magi’s Uriah, who had