Traitor's Moon

they skirted the few taverns that were still open and reached the khirnari’s house unseen.
    With the aid of Seregil’s grapple, they scaled the back wall and crept to the edge of the roof overlooking the gardens below. Judging by the darkened windows, the household had gone to bed.
    They climbed down and followed a path between banks of flowers. Passing the bower where they’d last seen Amali, they saw that the door leading into the khirnari’s bedchamber stood open.
    Alec started toward it, but Seregil reached to stop him. There was no mistaking the soft rustle of a silk robe close by.
    â€œI thought you might come, Exile.”
    They both crouched as a soft mage light winked into being in a nearby corner of the garden. It glowed in the hollow of Rhaish í Arlisandin’s palm, just bright enough to illuminate the khirnari’s lined face and the arms of the chair where he sat. Raising his other hand to view, he sipped from a clay wine cup, then set it down on a little table at his elbow.
    â€œPlease join me,” he said, waving them closer. “You have nothing to fear from me now.”
    â€œI hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long, Khirnari,” Seregil countered, searching the shadows suspiciously. Having a light in his face made it harder to see.
    â€œI spend most of my nights here. Sleep is not the friend it once was,” Rhaish replied. “I watched you both the day you searched Ulan’s house, and again today, as you cobbled together what you think I have done. You may have your mother’s face, Seregil, but you possess your father’s will, stubborn as iron.”
    Something in the man’s manner sent a chill through Seregil, making his right palm itch for the grip of a sword. Yet Rhaish made no move, gave no signal, just reached again for his wine cup and drank deeply.
    â€œI know you did those things,” Alec said. “But I don’t understand how you could. Torsin trusted you; we all did.”
    â€œYou are a good man, young Alec, but you are not Aurënfaie. Youdon’t know what it is to wear the sen’gai of your ancestors, or to stand by and watch the land they walked die. No sacrifice is too great.”
    â€œExcept Amali?” Seregil asked.
    The old man grimaced, then said hoarsely, “She bears my only son, the carrier of my name. What she did, she did in ignorance. The fault is mine and I bear the blame. You might convince the Iia’sidra of her guilt in time, but you would be convincing them of a lie.”
    He reached into his robe and took out a simple woven bracelet with a blackened charm. His hands were trembling now, making the shadows jitter. “This belonged to Torsin í Xandus. It will prove your claim against me. Let it end there and justice is served.”
    A spasm of some sort gripped him then, and he clenched the fist holding the bracelet. The mage light still cradled in his other palm flared and flickered.
    â€œOh, no,” Seregil gasped.
    The shadows slewed again as Rhaish placed the bracelet on the table and shifted the light to his other hand. Its glow fell across the second cup that had been hidden before, and the small nosegay that lay next to it.
    He heard Alec’s sharp intake of breath as the younger man recognized the clusters of bell-shaped blossoms. “Wolfbane,” he whispered, giving them their Tír name.
    â€œNot cups. Bowls. It’s dwai sholo,” said Seregil. “This amounts to an admission of guilt.”
    â€œYes,” Rhaish gasped. “I considered using the apaki’nhag venom, but feared it might confuse the issue. I want no confusion.” Another spasm shook him. Gritting his teeth, he pulled off his sengai and let it fall beside his chair. “The guilt is mine, and I bear it alone.”
    â€œDo you swear that by Aura’s Light?’ asked Seregil.
    â€œI do. How could I ask anyone else to partake of such dishonor, no matter how necessary?” He stretched out a hand to Seregil and he took it, kneeling before the dying man.
    â€œYou’ll make them believe?’ Rhaish whispered. “Let my death absolve the name of Akhendi, and take all dishonor.”
    â€œI will, Khirnari,” Seregil replied softly. The man’s fingers were already icy. Leaning closer, Seregil spoke quickly. “I was right, wasn’t I, about Klia’s poisoning being an accident?”
    Rhaish nodded. “Nor did I intend