Stalking Darkness

usual.
    Thryis hailed them as they passed the kitchen door. “I didn’t hear you go out,” she said, sharpening knives by the fireside. “Rhiri brought in a message for you last night, but it wasn’t sent for the Rhíminee Cat. It’s there on the mantelpiece behind the salt box.”
    Seregil found it, a coarse square of paper tied with greasy twine and sealed with candle drippings.
    “Anything else?” asked Seregil, bending down to tickle Luthas, who sat playing with a wooden spoon at his great-grandmother’s feet.
    “No, nothing.”
    “How many are there in the inn today?”
    “I think this wind’s blown all our custom away,” the old woman grumbled, testing the edge of a cleaver against her thumbnail. “There were those six draymen in the big room, but they left first thing this morning. All we’ve got left now is a horse trader and his son in the room at the front and a cloth merchant in for the spring trade. I’ve never seen it so slack this time of year. I sent Cilla and Diomis out to see what’s what down at the market.”
    Suddenly Luthas startled them all with an angry squall.
    “By the Flame, he’s been restless all morning,” Thryis sighed. “Must be another tooth coming.”
    “I’ll get him.” Alec scooped up the child, bouncing him gently in his arms, but the child howled on.
    “You’re wanting your mother, aren’t you, dear one?” Thryis smiled, offering him his spoon. But Luthas knocked it away and cried louder, squirming like an eel.
    “Find me that rag of his,” Alec called to Seregil over the uproar.
    Rummaging in the nearby cradle, Seregil found a colorful kerchief with a knot tied in the middle and held that within reach. Luthas grabbed it and stuffed the knot in his mouth, chewing at it with a decidedly disgruntled air. After a moment he relaxed drowsily against Alec’s shoulder.
    “You’re quite the nursemaid these days,” whispered Seregil.
    “Oh, they’re great friends, these two,” Thryis said fondly.
    Alec was just attempting to lay the child in his cradle when Rhiri stamped in, slamming the door behind him. Luthas jerked awake, crying ferociously.
    The mute ostler gave Alec an apologetic nod, then pulled a small scroll tube from his jerkin and handed it to Seregil.
    “Come on!” groaned Seregil, motioning for Alec to follow.
    Back in their disordered sitting room again, Seregil flopped down on the couch and opened the scroll tube, which contained a jeweled ring and the usual request for the Cat’s services. Setting these aside with an impatient sniff, he cut the string on the folded paper and smoothed it out on his knee.
    “Well now, here’s a bit of good news,” he exclaimed happily. “Listen to this. ‘In Rhíminee Harbor, awaiting your pleasure. Ask for Welken at the Griffin.’ It’s signed ‘Master Rhal, captain of the
Green Lady,’
and dated yesterday.”
    “Yesterday? We’d better get down there.”
    “Another hour won’t matter.” His smile faded as he waved Alec to a chair. “We’ve got something else to deal with first.”
    Alec sat down, studying Seregil’s face uneasily; he didn’t look happy.
    “First, you have to swear secrecy under your oath as a Watcher,” Seregil began with uncharacteristic gravity.
    A thrill of anticipation went through Alec as he nodded. “I swear. What’s going on?”
    “Those dreams of yours, with the headless arrow shaft? They meant something to Nysander. To me, too, really, the moment you told me about it last night, but I had to have Nysander hear it to be certain.”
    “Of what?” Alec asked uneasily.
    “There’s so much to tell you, it’s hard to know where to begin.” Seregil studied his clasped hands for a moment. “That first night we came here, I went out again.”
    “To the Temple of Illior.”
    “That’s right, but I never told you why I went there, did I?”
    “No, never.”
    “I went hoping the Oracle could tell me something about that wooden disk we brought back from Wolde.” Seregil touched a hand to his breast where the hidden brand lay.
    Alec stared at him in disbelief. “Does Nysander know?”
    “He does now, but that’s not the point. The Oracle didn’t tell me anything specific about the disk, but he did say something that I know now was a piece of a prophecy. He spoke of the Eater of Death—”
    “Just like in the journal we found, and at the Mourning Night ceremony.”
    “Yes, and then he told me I was to guard three people he called the Guardian, the