Stalking Darkness

changed the subject. “I understand your uncle accompanied the remains of Corruth í Glamien back to Virésse?”
    “Yes, and allow me to offer my sympathies’ for the loss of your kinsman,” said Melessandra. “It must have been a terrible shock in the midst of your own difficulties.”
    “Thank you. The reports given by the Queen’s agents who found him were chilling, to say the least. Yet some good maycome of it. Have you heard what the council’s reaction was in Aurënen?”
    Melessandra rolled her eyes. “Complete uproar. You know the old guard still contends that Skala is accountable for the actions of the Lerans. Yet there are those among the younger members who argue more and more for an end to isolationism. Adzriel ä Illia is one of the chief proponents for reconciliation.”
    “Illia?” asked Alec, pricking up his ears at the familiar name.
    “Certainly,” Seregil said, giving him a level look that warned discreetly against questions. “What else would it be? Unless you’re confusing her with Adzriel ä Olien again?”
    “Oh—yes. I suppose I must be,” Alec managed, wondering what blunder he’d committed this time.
    “Family names are so much simpler in Mycena,” Seregil went on lightly. “Poor Alec is still struggling with all our lengthy patronymics and matronymics and lineages.”
    Melessandra appeared sympathetic. “It must be overwhelming if you’re not born to it. But there’s Lord Geron and I must speak with him at once.
Erísmai.”
    She gave Alec a last, rather puzzled look, then strolled away accompanied by Nyreidian and the others.
    “I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Alec whispered hurriedly, before some other guest descended on them.
    “My fault,” Seregil replied with a slight smile. “If I’d been here this last week I’d have thought to prepare you better. Illia was my mother’s name. My eldest sister, Adzriel ä Illia, was recently made a member of the Iia’sidra.”
    “Sister?”
    Never, in all the time Alec had known him, had Seregil mentioned his family, or almost anything else about his past in Aurënen. Alec had come to assume that his friend was as much an orphan as himself.
    “And
eldest!
How many do you have?”
    “Four, actually. I was the only boy, and the youngest,” Seregil replied somewhat tersely.
    “Little brother Seregil?” Alec smothered a grin as his entire perception of his friend subtly shifted. He could sense the old barriers going up again, however, and prudently changed the subject. “It sounds like the Skalans want Aurënen as allies again, like they were in the Great War.”
    “They do, but bad blood over Corruth will get in the way. Ourrecent discovery may make things worse rather than better, at least for now.”
    “But it’s been almost three hundred years since Corruth disappeared.”
    “Remember who we’re talking about, Alec. Many of the most powerful people on the Iia’sidra were his friends and contemporaries. They haven’t forgotten the reception he received from the Skalans when he married their queen, or his suspicious disappearance after her death. If Lera hadn’t had the poor sense to leave her half sister Corruthesthera alive, there might have been war between the two nations then. As for a new alliance, I’m afraid that may depend more on the Plenimarans in the end. If they join with Zengat—”
    “Oh, Lord Seregil! There you are!”
    A gaggle of young nobles crowded noisily around them, wreathed in expectant grins.
    “We thought you’d never come home,” chided a young woman, wrapping her arm through Seregil’s. “You missed my autumn revel this year, you know.”
    Seregil pressed a hand dramatically to his heart. “As I stood on a rolling deck under a full red moon that night, my thoughts were all of you. Can you forgive me?”
    “It was a crescent moon; I recall it perfectly. But I’ll grant you a conditional pardon if you’ll introduce me to your new friend,” she fluttered, looking boldly across at Alec, who’d been crowded to the edge of the circle.
    Alec smiled his way through an onslaught of complex introductions, noting as he did so that his polite greetings were not always returned with the same grace. A number of them, in fact, were decidedly cool.
    Seregil hesitated as he came to a handsome, auburn-haired dandy surrounded by an entourage of admirers. “Forgive me, sir, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure?”
    The man gave an elaborate bow. “Pelion í Eirsin