Stalking Darkness

attend you in my absence,” said Azarin. Giving the two of them a final, approving look, he disappeared back into the vestibule.
    “Well met, young sir,” Tirien greeted him. Thick black hair, glossy as a crow’s wing, framed his face and a soft growth of new beard edged the hollows of his cheeks. His smile seemed genuinely friendly. He was dressed in breeches, boots, and a loose shirt of fine linen; for a moment Alec mistook him for a noble. The illusion was shattered, however, when Tirien stepped closer and said, “There’s a couch free near the fire, if you like. Or would you prefer to go up at once?”
    For one awful moment Alec was speechless; what in Illior’s name was he to do? Glancing past Tirien’s shoulder, his eyes happened to fall on one of the panels. The young prostitute turned to follow his gaze, then smiled.
    “Oh, yes, I’m quite good at that. As you can see, though, we’ll need a third man.”
    Seregil’s eyes widened in genuine amazement at he caught sight of Alec framed in the salon entrance, amazement followed at once by a bittersweet pang of something deeper than mere surprise.
    The boy had obviously stumbled into Azarin’s house by mistake—the tense lines around his mouth and faint, betraying color in his cheeks attested as much.
    I’d better go rescue him
, he thought, yet he remained where he was, letting the scene play on a bit longer.
    A quick glance around the room confirmed that Alec was attracting the notice of other patrons, as well. And no wonder, Seregil thought with a stab of something dangerously close to possessiveness. For a moment he allowed himself to see Alec through the eyes of the others: a slim, somberly dressed youth whose heavy, honey-dark hair framed a finely featured face and the bluest eyes this side of a summer evening sky. He stood like a half-wild thing, poised for flight, yet his manner toward the young prostitute was almost courtly.
    Tirien leaned closer to Alec and the boy’s mask of composureslipped a bit, betraying—what? Alarm, certainly, but hadn’t there been just a hint of indecision?
    This time Seregil couldn’t deny the hot flash of jealousy that shot through him. Thoroughly annoyed with himself, he began disentangling himself from Wythrin.
    “Do you want to go back up now?” the young man asked hopefully, sliding a warm hand up his thigh.
    This gave him pause. Seregil touched the back of one hand to Wythrin’s cheek, savoring the faint roughness of it. This one, a favorite for some time now, had charms of his own, and talents that spared Seregil’s heart even as they satisfied his need. Wythrin, and others like him, offered safe, guiltless passion, free of obligation.
    “In a moment. There’s someone I need to talk to first.”
    He’d get Alec out of whatever jam he’d stumbled into, whether that sent him upstairs with Tirien or not, Seregil told himself sternly, then lose himself once more in Wythrin’s deep bed. It was as simple as that.
    Alec quickly realized that Tirien had no intention of being put off. His own increasingly embarrassed protestations that he had no experience in such matters only seemed to whet the courtesan’s interest. It wasn’t the first time Alec had run into this attitude; country virgins seemed to be a rare and much sought-after novelty in Rhíminee.
    For a fleeting instant it occurred to him that Tirien was attractive, but he dismissed the treacherous thought at once; that sort of thinking was not going to get him out of this mess.
    To his relief, he saw Seregil coming his way. Clearly amused, he gave Alec a discreet
need help?
sign. Alec answered with a quick nod.
    At that, Seregil strode up to them and slipped an arm around Alec’s waist. “There you are at last! Forgive me for intruding, Tirien. My friend and I have some business. Will you excuse us for a moment?”
    “Of course.” The young courtesan withdrew with a graceful bow, betraying only the faintest hint of disappointment.
    Alec braced for the inevitable ragging as they withdrew to the vestibule, but Seregil simply said, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
    “I heard you singing. I mean, I thought it sounded like you and—well, I just came in.” Aside from the fact that he was stammering like an idiot, Alec was suddenly all too aware of the fact that Seregil’s arm was still around him. Strange, enticing scents clung to his friend’s skin and hair, unlike his usual clean smell. The troublesome new feelings stirred