Traitor's Moon

we will gather again at the end of the mourning period.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Signs of mourning were already in evidence by the time Alec and the others returned to the guest house.
    Following Skalan custom, the main entrance was sealed and hung with an inverted shield. Incense billowed up from a brazier set on the doorstep. Strings of Aurënfaie prayer kites also fluttered from poles set into the ground, and from the windows and roof.
    A low, droning song greeted them as they entered the main hall by a side door; six rhui’auros stood in a circle at the center of the room, chanting softly.
    Klia was with Seregil, Adzriel, and Mydri, putting the final touches on a large prayer kite. Nearby several Bôkthersan servants were busy constructing others. It looked as if they meant to festoon the whole house with them.
    â€œWhat news?” Klia asked as they entered.
    â€œAll is well, my lady,” replied Torsin. “The council will resume in five days.”
    Seregil dismissed the servants, then asked, “And what were your impressions?”
    â€œThat the Virésse already knew,” Alec told him. “I can’t explain it; it was just the way Ulan í Sathil watched us as we came in.”
    â€œI think he’s right,” Thero agreed. “I didn’t dare chance brushing Ulan’s mind, but I briefly touched that of Elos of Goliníl. There was no surprise, only thoughts of Ulan.”
    â€œYou did what?” Seregil gaped at the wizard in dismay. “Didn’t I tell you how dangerous that could be?”
    Thero spared him an impatient glance. “You didn’t think I was dozing through all those long sessions, did you? I’ve been making a study of the Iia’sidra members. Ulan í Sathil and the khirnari of Khatme, Akhendi, and Silmai have the strongest aura of magic about them. I’m not certain what the full extent of their skills may be, but I’ve sense enough to stay clear of them. Most of the others are far more limited—Elos of Goliníl in particular. If Ulan has a weak point, it’s his daughter’s husband.”
    â€œIf they did know, then perhaps you’re right about having a spy in the house,” Klia noted, frowning.
    Adzriel looked up sharply, her face as solemn as her brother’s. “I chose the staff for this house myself. They are above reproach.”
    Seregil shook his head. “That’s not who I was thinking of.”

25
N IGHTRUNNING
    S kalan mourning was an austere affair, and fires, hot food, alcohol of any sort, lovemaking, and music were all strictly abstained from. A single candle was allowed in each room at night. Should the soul of the departed visit any of its loved ones, there must be nothing to distract it from its journey.
    This was new territory for Alec, whose Dalnan upbringing dictated a quick burning and ashes plowed into the earth. He’d seen death often enough since he’d come south with Seregil, but his friend was neither Skalan nor one to adhere to custom. When Thryis and her family had been murdered, Seregil had set the inn ablaze as a pyre and sworn vengeance on their murderer, a vow Alec had himself carried out when he strangled Vargûl Ashnazai. Seregil’s grief for Nysander’s death had been too deep and silent for mere ritual to encompass. For a time he’d almost stopped living himself.
    This time, however, Seregil willingly observed the abstentions, sitting with Klia through the interminable visitations. Alec sensed genuine sadness in his friend, although Seregil said little.
    It was Beka who finally drew him out. The three of them had gathered with Thero in thewizard’s room on the second night, passing the time in desultory conversation.
    Thero was weaving the shadows cast by the candle into fantastic shapes against the wall. Seregil remained unusually quiet as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out before him, chin on hand. Alec studied his friend’s pensive face, wondering if Seregil was watching Thero’s shadow play or lost to his own inner phantoms.
    Beka suddenly nudged Seregil’s foot with her own and raised her eyebrows in mock surprise when he looked up.
    â€œOh, it’s
you,
” she said. “And here I’d been thinking it must be Alec sitting there. No one else I know can keep quiet for so long.”
    â€œI was just thinking about Idrilain,” he replied.
    â€œYou