Traitor's Moon

her eyes.
    â€œYou could come with me.” The words escaped before she could second-guess them.
    â€œIf they vote to lift the Edict, you could remain,” he countered, still holding her hand.
    The possibility hung between them for a moment, then Beka shook her head. “I can’t abandon my command, or Klia. Not when every soldier is needed.”
    â€œThis is what comes of loving a warrior.” Nyal rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, studying the faded scars there.
    â€œMy offer stands.” Searching those sad hazel eyes for an answer, she added in Aurënfaie, “Take what the Lightbearer sends and be thankful, talí.”
    Nyal chuckled softly. “That’s a Bôkthersan proverb, but I will reflect upon it.”
    Seregil and Alec moved through the labyrinthine house with their usual caution, but were soon satisfied that most of the household was busy in the main courtyard. The few people they encountered along the way, servants and trysting lovers mostly, were easily evaded.
    â€œDoes any of this look familiar?” Seregil asked.
    â€œNo, I was in the other wing.”
    Seregil had once known this sprawling house well. Wandering through familiar corridors and courts, he found his way at last to the khirnari’s living quarters. The rooms faced a small courtyard encircled by banks of peony and wild rose. A pool at its center was stocked with large, silver fish.
    â€œIf we don’t find the papers here, and quickly, we give up and go back,” Seregil said, trying a door and finding it unlocked. “We’ve got to return before we’re missed.” He squinted at Alec in the dim moonlight. “You haven’t smelled anything, have you?”
    â€œJust the flowers.”
    Their search was made easier by the spare furnishings Ulan and his lady favored. Each room had what it needed to make it habitable, no more. Thick carpets softened the sound of their feet, but there were no tapestries, just airy silk hangings around the bed.
    â€œOdd,” Alec whispered, keeping a lookout at the door. “This is all of the best quality, but after what we’ve seen so far tonight, I’d have expected Ulan’s tastes to be more elaborate.”
    â€œWhat does that suggest?” Seregil asked, poking through a clothes chest.
    â€œThat he doesn’t care about material goods? That it’s the power he craves, and displays of wealth like this gathering tonight are simply manifestations of his power?”
    â€œVery good. There’s more to him than that, though. He lives for his clan. Not that he hasn’t made himself a great man in the process, but the power, the goods, trade, reputation? It’s all for Virésse. That’s the mark of a great khirnari.”
    He broke off, bent over a drawer in a small chest. “Look at this.”
    He flipped something bright at Alec, a new Skalan sester coin that had been cut in two.
    â€œI bet I know what this is,” he whispered, tossing it back. “Ulan sends sen’gai tassels. Torsin sends these.”
    â€œIf you’re right, then they’ve met at least five times.” Seregil showed him more of the tokens. “What do you suppose Ulan is doing, keeping these close to hand? Now, what was I saying?”
    â€œThat Ulan is a great khirnari.”
    â€œAh, yes. One of the greatest. That’s why he opposes Klia, not because he dislikes her, or the Tír. If it had somehow benefited his clan to give Klia what she wants, we’d be home in Skala by now with his blessings. Ah, here’s something else! Looks like a dispatch box.” Seregil held it up. It was the right size, but utterly smooth, with no sign of a lock hole.
    â€œI’m guessing what we’re after is in here, if it still exists at all.Either way, we’re not getting our hands on it. This is held shut with magic.”
    â€œWe should have brought Thero—” Alec broke off, hearing the sound of approaching footsteps. Hissing a quick warning, he ducked out of sight behind the door. Seregil rolled silently under the bed and Alec made a mental note; if he ever suspected intruders in Aurënen, that was the first place to look. Their unseen visitor paused a moment in the courtyard, then walked back the way he’d come.
    â€œSo much for your Bash’wai protector,” Seregil complained, brushing dust from his coat as he emerged. “Not a whiff of ’em,