Stalking Darkness

striking right and left with workmanlike efficiency. Seregil had just time enough to pull the poniard free of his boot before he found himself fighting two-handed against a ruffian wielding a quarterstaff.
    The alley made for close quarters fighting and the three of them were soon being forced back inch by inch toward the dead end at their backs.
    “Trouble above!” Rhal bellowed as a hail of stones and roof tiles clattered down from overhead. “Press the bastards!”
    A heavy tile struck his arm, jarring his sword from his hand. A tall footpad closed in, but Seregil whirled and buried his poniardbetween the man’s ribs. Beside him, Alec struck another across the face. Rhal rolled hastily out from under their feet, scrambling through the dirty snow for his weapon.
    More stones rained down but thanks to the darkness or someone’s poor aim, most of this load landed among the attackers. In the resulting confusion, Seregil and the others broke free to the street, the gang hot on their heels.
    Freed from the confines of the alley, he rounded on the man nearest him and ran him through, then blocked a swing from a quarterstaff. He’d lost sight of Alec, but a fierce yell just behind told him the boy was holding his own.
    Seregil was just facing off with two of the footpads when the shrill alarm of a Watch trumpet rang out nearby. A moment later a Watch patrol galloped into sight down the street, weapons drawn. The footpads left off at once and melted away into the shadows like sea smoke before a freshening breeze.
    “Come on!” Seregil hissed at Alec and Rhal, and bolted off in the opposite direction.
    “What are we running for?” Rhal panted.
    “So we don’t spend the night inventing lies for some thickheaded bluecoat,” Seregil snapped.
    Dodging into the next side street, he spotted a sagging bulkhead at the base of a tenement just ahead. Hoping for the best, he yanked up one of the flat doors and tossed in a lightstone. Worn steps led down to a disused cellar.
    “Down here!”
    Alec and Rhal dove for cover and he followed, pulling the door shut overhead again.
    Crouched tensely in the musty darkness, they listened as the Watch made a cursory search of the area and then moved on.
    Seregil looked over at Rhal. “Now, you were saying—?”
    For the space of a few heartbeats Rhal stared blankly back at him, then burst out laughing. “By the Mariner, I came here to stick a knife in you and now I’m indebted to you for my life. You two had no call to cover me as you did just then.”
    “You had no call to let us go that night on the
Darter,”
Seregil replied, picking up the light and heading for the stairs. “But you did, and here we are. The boy and I have some business to attend to just now, but I’d like to continue our earlier discussion. Meet us at the inner room of the Bower in Silk Street, say in an hour’s time?”
    Rhal considered the invitation, then nodded. “All right then. An hour.”
    Seregil lifted the bulkhead door cautiously, then climbed out with Alec close behind.
    “Are we really going to meet him?” Alec asked as they hurried away.
    “He tracked us to Wheel Street. I think we’d better find out how he managed that, don’t you?” Seregil scowled, making no effort to mask his concern. “And who it was that came to him looking for us, although I think I can guess.”
    The answering look of fear on Alec’s face told Seregil that he could, too.
    Their unanticipated run-in with Rhal had sapped every ounce of enjoyment from the night for Alec. He floundered through the job in a daze of apprehension. Seregil had said nothing more on the matter so far, but he couldn’t shake the conviction that his own callow ignorance aboard the
Darter
had somehow led Rhal to them after all these months. And if he’d tracked them, then why not Mardus?
    Luckily for him, the burglary was not a particularly challenging one. Evidently a smug, unimaginative fellow, Makrin had hidden the letters in a locked box behind a bit of loose woodwork in his study. Seregil spotted it while Alec was still sorting through the contents of the writing table. With Lady Isara’s letters in hand, along with a few other items of interest, they stopped briefly at Wheel Street to deposit the goods, then set off on horseback for the Bower.
    This was a discreetly respectable establishment Seregil often used for assignations. A yawning pot boy led them to a room at the back. Rhal was already there, but not alone; Alec