Traitor's Moon

sitting room off the main hall.”
    Mercalle nodded to one of the Urgazhi on guard at the door, and the man hurried off. “There is one other thing, as well,” she added. “The house servants wish to know what’s to be done with Lord Torsin.”
    Beka grimaced. “Sakor’s Flame, it’s been a couple of days, hasn’t it? He’ll have to be burnt, and his remains sent home to Skala.”
    â€œIt will have to be done outside the city,” Seregil told her. “Nyal can probably find the materials we’ll need. Have it done tonight; the priests can deal with the proper rites back in Rhíminee. You’d better bring Emiel into the hall now. I want him there when I give his uncle the bad news.”
    â€œI can’t wait to see their faces,” Beka said, striding off toward the back stair with Mercalle.
    Thero waited until the two women were gone, then lowered his voice. “I’ve been thinking about what you said of the rhui’auros. Whatever your sister may think, I believe they see more than mere politics in all this. I’m convinced they want this alliance.”
    â€œI know,” Seregil replied. “What puzzles me is why they don’t seem to be making that clear to their own people.”
    â€œMaybe the Aurënfaie aren’t listening,” Alec suggested.
    Nyal was loitering in the stable yard when Beka came out with Mercalle. Her heart gave an unruly leap at the sight of him. He’d been out riding, judging by the dust on his boots and cloak. Coming closer, she smelled beer and green herbs on his breath, the scent of a fresh breeze in his hair. She’d have given a month’s pay for five minutes alone in his arms.
    â€œWe need materials for a funeral pyre, a fast, hot one,” she told him, keeping her tone neutral.
    His hazel eyes widened in alarm. “Aura’s Light, not Klia—”
    â€œFor Lord Torsin,” she told him.
    â€œAh, of course. The proper materials are kept in the city for such contingencies,” he replied. “I’m sure they’ll be made available to you, but it might be best if someone of Bôkthersa clan made the request on Skala’s behalf. Shall I find Kheeta í Branín?”
    â€œThank you,” Beka said gratefully. “I want his ashes ready for tomorrow’s dispatch rider, if possible.”
    â€œI’ll see to everything,” he said, already on his way.
    â€œHe’s been a good friend to us, Captain,” Mercalle said with evident affection.
    By the Four, how I want to believe that!
Beka thought, watchingher lover out of sight. “Get an honor guard together for me, Sergeant. Have them in the main hall in five minutes. Lord Seregil is meeting with the Haman and we want to make the proper impression.”
    Mercalle winked knowingly. “I’ll make sure they’re all tall and mean, Captain.”
    â€œMean shouldn’t be too difficult to come by, considering who our guests are,” Beka replied, clapping her on the shoulder.
    She’d been too distracted by Klia’s condition and her own guilt to pay very much attention to the unwelcome “guest” in the barracks. As she headed in to fetch Emiel, she reflected that it couldn’t have been a comfortable few days for him, with Klia’s own guard looking daggers at him every waking hour. There wasn’t one of them who wouldn’t cheerfully cut the Haman’s throat.
    Half a dozen riders were taking their ease inside. Two more kept watch at the back of the room, where Emiel sat on his pallet, the remains of a recent meal on a plate beside him. He looked up at her approach, and she was pleased to see a flicker of apprehension cross his face.
    â€œOn your feet. You’re wanted in the house,” she ordered.
    Outside, Emiel blinked as his eyes adjusted to the slanting afternoon sun. He betrayed no fear, but she did catch him stealing a quick glance at the stable yard gate, which stood tantalizingly open.
    Go on, try to run for it
, Beka thought, loosening her grip a little, wondering if he knew how much she’d welcome the opportunity to take him down.
    The man knew better, of course, and kept up a disdainful front until he entered the hall and saw his uncle and a half dozen kinsmen standing tensely before Thero’s makeshift tribunal. Alec and Säaban flanked the wizard, with Mercalle’s guard in a line behind them. Seregil