Traitor's Moon

empty, the sheets cool. Alec had been too shaken to sleep after they’d returned from the Nha’mahat. He’d been sitting by the fire when Seregil fell asleep.
    â€œAlec?” he called again.
    His questing fingers found a taper on the mantel and he pushed it about in the bankedashes on the hearth until he found a live coal. The wick flared at last and he held it up.
    Alec was nowhere to be seen.
    Puzzled, he finished dressing and set off for Klia’s room alone. He was halfway down the corridor when he heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the roof. Here was Alec at last, bleary eyed and still dressed in last night’s clothes.
    â€œWere you up there all night?”
    Alec rubbed at the back of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went up to the colos to think. I must have finally dozed off. Where are you off to so early? I was hoping for a few hours’ sleep in a warm bed.”
    â€œNot just yet, talí. Klia’s sent for us.”
    This woke him up. “Do you think the Iia’sidra has reached a decision?” he asked, following Seregil downstairs.
    â€œEven if they had, I doubt they’d spring that on us at dawn.”
    As they walked down the second-floor corridor toward Klia’s chamber they could hear familiar sounds echoing up from the kitchen: clattering of pots, hurried footsteps, the voices of some Urgazhi riders joking with the cooks in broken Aurënfaie as they came in for their breakfast.
    â€œSounds like a normal enough morning,” Alec remarked.
    Thero answered their knock and admitted them to Klia’s sitting room.
    The princess sat by a small writing table. Although she was dressed for a day with the council, one look at her pale, too-calm face left Seregil with a sinking feeling. No, this was no normal morning.
    Thero moved to stand just behind her, as if she were queen and he her court wizard. Lord Torsin and Beka already occupied the room’s only chairs, and they looked as uneasy as Seregil suddenly felt.
    â€œGood, you’re all here. The queen my mother is dead,” Klia announced flatly.
    The words sapped the strength from Seregil’s legs. The others seemed equally affected. Alec pressed one hand to his heart, the Dalnan sign of respect for the dead. Beka sat with her hands clasped around the hilt of her sword, head bowed. Of them all, Torsin appeared most stricken by the news. Sagging in his chair, he coughed convulsively into the stained handkerchief.
    â€œI will not see her like again,” he gasped out at last.
    Thero held up a letter for the others to see. “It’s from Magyana, dated yesterday and written in evident haste. It reads: ‘The queen died the night before last. Brave soul, she should not have survivedthis long, even with our magic and healing. The darkness seems already to be closing in around us.
    â€œÂ â€˜Northern Mycena has fallen to Plenimar. Phoria has already been crowned in the field. Korathan will replace Lady Morthiana as vicegerent at Rhíminee.
    â€œÂ â€˜Against all urging, Phoria has forbidden sending this news to Klia, so I risk all that you may not be taken by surprise.
    â€œÂ â€˜I am presently out of favor and have little influence. I have not been released from service, but am no longer consulted. Korathan has her ear, but is his sister’s man, as is her wizard, Organeus.
    â€œÂ â€™Phoria has not yet ordered Klia’s return, which puzzles me. She and her supporters clearly have little faith in a propitious outcome. You must impress upon Klia that she is very much on her own now.
    â€œÂ â€˜I wish I could offer you more guidance, dear boy, but things are as yet too uncertain. Illior grant that I will not be sent from the royal camp before you are all safely on your way home again. —Magyana’ ”
    â€œThis couldn’t have come at a worse time,” said Klia. “Just when we were beginning to make progress among the Haman and some of the undecided clans. How will they respond to this?”
    Another coughing fit shook Torsin, doubling him over in his chair. When it passed, he wiped his lips and wheezed out, “It is difficult to predict, my lady. They know so little of Phoria.”
    â€œI’d say our greatest concern is the fact that she didn’t send word herself,” said Seregil. “What do you suppose prompted that lack of sisterly consideration?”
    â€œDoes the Iia’sidra