Traitor's Moon

Aftera moment’s consideration, he added, “Send for Seregil. I wish to speak with him at once.”
    Alone again, Rhaish sagged back against his pillows as an image rose to his mind’s eye: Seregil skillfully slitting the dead fish, extracting the ring with as much certainty as if he’d known it was there all along. And earlier, in the garden, he’d searched so intently, so efficiently. At the time it had been gratifying, astonishing. Now the memory filled him with unease.
    The cold kiss of a rain-laden breeze woke Thero. Outside the colos, a morning shower pattered down on the roof tiles and voices drifted up to him from the street below. Catching Seregil’s name, he sent a sighting spell that way and discovered Mirn and Steb speaking with an Akhendi man he didn’t recognize.
    â€œI haven’t seen Lord Seregil yet this morning,” Mirn was saying. “I’ll tell him Lord Rhaish is looking for him as soon as he comes down.”
    â€œIt’s a matter of some urgency,” the Akhendi replied.
    Here we go, then
, Thero thought. Hurrying down to Seregil’s abandoned room, he latched the door after him. None too soon, either, as it turned out. The latch lifted, then jiggled against the lock pin.
    â€œSeregil, you’re wanted downstairs.” It was Kheeta, damn the luck. A servant could be put off with a curt response. “Are you awake? Seregil? Alec?”
    Thero passed his hand quickly over the bed, willing a memory, any memory, from it. The bed let out a rhythmic creaking, accompanied by a throaty masculine moan. The wizard fell back a pace, annoyed. He’d expected snoring, but supposed he should have known better.
    The sounds had the desired effect, however. There was a meaningful silence on the far side of the door, then the tactful retreat of footsteps.
    Wasting no time, Thero took out the wax balls he’d prepared the night before, pinched them man-shaped, and placed them beneath the edge of the coverlet. Weaving shapes on the air with his wand, Thero hummed tonelessly under his breath, remembering faces, limbs, the shapes of hands and feet. The wax simulacra swelled and lengthened beneath the blankets. By the time he finished they had a fair likeness of Seregil and Alec but were still stiff and expressionless. Laying a finger on Seregil’s cold brow, Thero blew into his nostrils.Color suffused the pallid cheeks, and the features relaxed into something like sleep. He did the same with Alec’s double, then arranged the pair into a sleeping pose. Summoning more memories from shared nights on the road, he added the steady rise and fall of breath, with the lightest of snores from Alec. With any luck and a bit of delicacy on the part of servants, this might buy them a few more precious hours.
    He left the door unlatched and made his way down to the main hall, where Kheeta was making excuses to their Akhendi visitor.
    â€œGood morning,” Thero said, coming forward to greet their guest. “What brings you here at this hour?”
    The man bowed. “Greetings, Thero í Procepios. Amali ä Yassara wishes to examine the Akhendi charm Seregil brought her. She is feeling quite strong this morning.”
    The charm!
Thero reached for the pouch at his belt, then frowned. Seregil had had it last; in all the confusion caused by Magyana’s letter, Thero hadn’t thought to get it back from him.
    â€œYou should have said so!” exclaimed Kheeta, already halfway to the stairway again. “I’m sure they won’t mind being disturbed for that.”
    â€œLet me,” Thero said quickly, regretting his own ruse. “I’ll send him to you as soon as he’s”—here he gave Kheeta a hard look—“awake.”
    â€œThere; this is the one,” Seregil called out happily, squinting down yet another unremarkable side road.
    Beka stifled a groan. Except for the flock of kutka pecking morning grit in the tall grass, it looked just like all the other sidetracks he’d halted for this morning.
    â€œThe last one you were this sure of cost us half an hour’s ride in the wrong direction,” Alec pointed out, far more patiently than Beka could have managed.
    â€œNo, this is the one,” he insisted. “See that boulder there?” He pointed to a large grey rock a few yards down the road on the right. “What does that look like to you?”
    Beka gripped the reins more tightly.