Traitor's Moon

night.” This time there was no mistaking Alec’s tightly reined anger.
    Something fell into place in Seregil’s addled brain. “I wasn’t out spying without you.” He longed for some of the previous night’s hysteria to buoy him, but it was long gone, leaving him flat and depressed.
    â€œWhat, then?” Alec demanded, pulling back the blankets. “Who did this to you, and why?”
    Glancing down, Seregil saw that his ribs were expertly bandaged, the bands just tight enough to ease the pain and help the cracked bones to knit. The rest of his naked body was covered with a truly impressive array of bruises of varying sizes and shapes. The acrid stink of urine had been replaced by the cloying aroma of some herbal salve. He could see the greasy sheen of it on his skin.
    â€œNyal bound you up,” Alec informed him, replacing the bedclothes with hands far more gentle than his tone. “I waited until the others left for the day, then brought him up. No one else knows about this yet, except Olmis. I told them both to keep quiet. Now, who did this?”
    â€œI don’t know. It was dark.” Seregil closed his eyes. It wasn’t too great a lie, really; he’d known only one of them by name, the khirnari’s nephew Emiel í Moranthi, and Kheeta had hinted at bad blood between him and Alec, though he’d refused to elaborate.
    If it’s vengeance you’re after, talí, don’t bother. The scales are still too heavily laden in the Hamans’favor
.
    Once his eyes were closed, he found it hard to open them again. The milky liquid evidently was a painkiller and he welcomed its dulling influence.
    After a moment he heard Alec sigh. “The next time you feel the need to go out for a ‘fall,’ you
tell
me, understand?”
    â€œI’ll try,” Seregil whispered, surprised by the sudden sting of tears behind his eyelids.
    Warm lips brushed his forehead. “And next time, wear your own damn clothes.”
    At Alec’s insistence, Seregil’s “fever” lasted through the following day.
    â€œI’ll go keep an eye on Torsin and the Virésse,” Alec told him, ordering Seregil not to stir from bed. “If anything of interest actually happens, I’ll bring you every detail.”
    Truth was, Seregil was in no condition to argue the point. A short trip to the chamber pot had been an exercise in pain in more ways than he wanted to think about, though he’d managed it by himself. He was pissing blood, and thanked any gods still listening that Alec wasn’t nursemaid enough to check. He’d have to speak to the slop boy, tell him to keep his mouth shut. Hell, he’d pay him if he had to. He’d survived worse treatment and there was no sense in worrying Alec any more than he was already.
    Left alone for the day, Seregil lapsed back into sleep for a time, only to awaken in a panicky sweat to find Ilar bending over him. He braced to roll away, only to hit a solid wall of pain.
    He fell back with a strangled moan and found himself looking up instead at Nyal. From the look on the Ra’basi’s face, his waking expression hadn’t been a welcoming one.
    â€œI came to check your dressings.”
    â€œThought you were—someone else,” Seregil croaked, fighting down the hot nausea welling at the back of his throat.
    â€œYou’re safe, my friend,” Nyal assured him, not understanding. “Here, drink some more of this.”
    Seregil sipped gratefully at the milky draught. “What is it?”
    â€œCrushed Carian poppy seed, chamomile, and boneset leaf boiled in goat’s milk and honey. It should ease your pain.”
    â€œIt does. Thanks.”
    Seregil could feel the effects already, just blunting the edges. He stared up at the ceiling while the Ra’basi gently checked the bindings around his chest, asking himself what the hell he had been thinking, handing himself over to the Haman like that. Mortification wrenched at his heart as he thought of what would be made of his absence from the Iia’sidra chamber. His attackers would have better sense than to brag about committing violence on sacred ground, but rumors might already be leaking out along the fretted network of gossip that underlay any large gathering. That aside, he’d virtually abandoned his responsibilities and left the burden on Alec.
    â€œMadness,” he hissed.
    â€œIndeed. Alec is