Traitor's Moon

asked.
    â€œJust Lord Torsin, my lord,” Nikides replied. “He left a while back and we haven’t seen him since.”
    â€œI thought he’d turned in for the night.”
    â€œCouldn’t sleep, he said. Now, I say night air’s the worst thing for weak lungs, but there’s no telling these nobles anything—begging your pardon, my lord.”
    Seregil gave the man a knowing wink and continued on as if he’d just been out on a constitutional of his own.
    He found Alec pacing impatiently in their room, every lamp blazing. Shadows still clung in the corners, resisting his superstitious efforts to banish them.
    â€œSeems they can’t carry on without us.” Seregil grinned, pointing up toward the abandoned colos.
    â€œKlia came down about half an hour ago,” Alec told him, coming to a rest in the center of the room. “What did they say when I didn’t come back?”
    â€œKheeta had some story about you feeling your wine, but he slipped me the nod. What happened?”
    Alec shrugged. “Luck in the shadows, if you can call it that. I just happened to be there when Torsin left. He came straight back here from Khatme tupa after I saw you. Klia met him in the passage as he came up.”
    â€œDid she know where he’d been?”
    â€œI couldn’t tell. What about your man?”
    â€œCare to guess?”
    â€œVirésse?”
    â€œSmart boy. Too bad we don’t know what was said either place.”
    â€œThen you didn’t learn anything, either.” Alec sank into a chair by the hearth. “What do you suppose Torsin was up to?”
    â€œThe queen’s business, I hope,” Seregil replied doubtfully, sprawling in the chair opposite.
    â€œDo we tell Klia?”
    Seregil closed his eyes and massaged the lids. “That’s the real question, isn’t it? I doubt that spying on our own people was quite what she had in mind when she invited us along.”
    â€œMaybe not, but she did say she was worried that he might be too sympathetic to Virésse. This proves it.”
    â€œIt proves nothing, except that he and someone with connections to Ulan í Sathil met at the house of Lhaär ä Iriel.”
    â€œSo, what do we do?”
    Seregil shrugged. “Bide our time a little longer, and keep our eyes open.”

17
A LEC K EEPS B USY
    B
ide our time
.
    To Alec, it seemed all they’d done since they arrived was wait, held impotent by the strictures of diplomacy and the plodding pace of Aurënfaie debate. The last thing he felt like doing was biding his time now that something interesting had finally happened.
    He rose early the next morning and took himself out for a dawn ride around the city walls. The distant hills floated like islands above the thick mist rising from the rivers. The bleat of sheep and goats came from closer by. Reaching the Nha’mahat, he stopped to exchange greetings with a rhui’auros who was setting out fresh offerings for the dragons. At this hour the little creatures fluttered in swarms thick as spring swallows, circling the tower. Others scrabbled over the bowls in the arcade. Several lit on Alec and he froze, not relishing the thought of another painful bite, no matter how auspicious the marks might be.
    Riding back through the Haunted City he passed the House of Pillars and was surprised to see Nyal’s horse, a black gelding with three white stockings, grazing there next to a sturdy white palfrey. Alec had aneye for horses and recognized this little mare as the mount Lady Amali had ridden over the mountains from Gedre.
    If it hadn’t been for Beka, he might have ridden on. Instead, he tethered Windrunner out of sight and hurried inside.
    Voices echoed from several directions, and he set off following those that sounded most promising to the pools at the center of the sprawling place. At last, he found his way to a small, weed-grown court some distance further on, where the comforting rise and fall of a man’s voice sounded a counterpoint to a woman’s soft weeping. Creeping closer, Alec slipped behind a tattered tapestry that still hung near the courtyard’s edge and peered out through a hole.
    Amali sat on the edge of an empty fountain, her face in her hands. Nyal stood over her, stroking her hair gently.
    â€œForgive me,” Amali said through her fingers. “But who else could I turn to? Who else would understand?”
    Nyal drew her