Stalking Darkness

one shoulder was torn.
    Don’ll look the ragged outcast?
he thought, giving the glass a humorless smile as he combed his fingers through his hair.
    Behind him the side door opened and for a moment another face was reflected next to his, the two images so similar, yet worlds apart. When had his eyes grown so wary, the lines around his mouth so harsh?
    “Seregil, my brother.” Her pure, unaccented Aurënfaie washed through him like cool water.
    “Adzriel,” he whispered, embracing her. The scent of wandril blossoms rose from her hair and skin, blinding him with memories. She had been both sister and mother and suddenly he rememberedwhat it had been to be a child, smelling her special scent as she comforted him or carried him home from some moonlit festival. Now she felt small in his arms and for a long moment he could do nothing but cling to her, his throat tightening painfully as he blinked back four decades of unshed tears.
    Adzriel stepped back at last, still holding him by the shoulders as if afraid he’d disappear if she didn’t.
    “All these years I’ve carried the image of that unhappy boy looking down at me from the deck that awful day,” she gasped, her own tears flowing freely. “O Aura, I missed seeing you grow into a man! Now look at you; wild as any Tírfaie and wearing a weapon in the presence of your kin.”
    Seregil quickly unbuckled his sword belt and hung it over a nearby chair. “I meant no offense. It’s like another limb to me here. Come, sit down and I’ll try to remember how civilized people act.”
    Adzriel stroked a hand through his unkempt hair. “And when were you ever civilized?”
    Sitting down next to him on a divan, she drew a small bundle of scrolls from her tunic. “I have letters for you from our sisters and your old friends. They haven’t forgotten you.”
    More memories held at bay pressed in, and with them a pang of long suppressed hope. Swallowing hard, he examined the heavy silver bracelet of rank on her wrist. “So you’re a member of the lia’sidra now. And an envoy, too. Not bad for someone who hasn’t seen her hundred and a half birthday yet.”
    Adzriel shrugged, though she looked pleased. “Our family’s tie to Skala may be useful in the coming years. Idrilain welcomed me as a kinswoman when we arrived, and spoke highly of you. From what little your friend Nysander í Azusthra had time to tell me, I gather you’ve been of some service to her?”
    Seregil studied her face, wondering how much Nysander had said about their work. Little enough, evidently.
    “Now and then,” he told her. “What did your companions make of that, I wonder, Seregil the Traitor praised by the Skalan Queen? I remember old Máhalie ä Solunesthra, but who’s the other?”
    “Ruen í Uri, of Datsia Clan. And you needn’t worry about either of them; they’re both moderates, and good friends of mine.”
    “And you’re here because of Plenimar?”
    “Yes. All recent reports indicate an alliance being attempted with Zengat and there can only be one reason for that.”
    “To keep Aurënen too busy defending her western borders to ally with Skala. But if the Plenimarans had just left things alone, wouldn’t the Edict of Separation have done their work for them?”
    “There’s been considerable progress against the Edict since you left. The recent discovery of our kinsman Corruth’s body—well, you can imagine the effect that has had in the Iia’sidra.”
    Seregil watched her again; no, she didn’t know the part he’d played in that, and his oath as a Watcher prevented him from telling her.
    “Total uproar, I hope,” he said with a smirk. “All those years of accusing every Skalan in sight of foul play. Old Rhazien’s faction must be choking on their own isolationist rhetoric.”
    Adzriel chuckled. “Nothing so dramatic, but it has tipped the scales a bit for those of us who want to renew the old alliances. With Petasárian gone and his successor, young Estmar, already rumored to be the puppet of his own generals and necromancers, I don’t think we can afford to stand alone any longer.”
    “Adzriel?” He hesitated, knowing what he must ask next, but dreading the answer. “Does this have anything to do with why you’ve been allowed to see me?”
    “The lifting of your banishment, you mean?” Adzriel smoothed a thumb over one of the jewels in her bracelet. “Not officially. The time isn’t right. Not yet.”
    Seregil jumped to his feet, clenching one hand