Traitor's Moon

man-of-war beat on a kettle to summon his shipmates to a hot breakfast. The scents of porridge and fried herring hung on the air.
    Seregil closed his eyes, picturing familiar streets and alleyways, wondering what changes the war had brought.
    Caught up in his thoughts, he let out a startled grunt when a warm hand closed over his on the rail.
    â€œIt looks peaceful enough, doesn’t it?” Alec said, stifling a yawn. “Suppose there’s any work left for us to do?”
    Seregil recalled his last conversation with Korathan. “I imagine we’ll find something.”
    They’d sent no word ahead of their arrival, so no one was at the docks to meet them. As soon as their horses were led off the ship, they set out for Wheel Street.
    What remained of the Lower City looked just the same, a maze of customs houses, crooked streets, and filthy tenements. But as they rode on, they saw that whole sections along the waterfront had been razed to make room for supply markets and corrals. Soldiers were everywhere.
    In the Upper City, the Sea Market was already busy, but there were fewer goods in the stalls than Seregil remembered.
    The wealthy Noble Quarter was the least changed. Servants were abroad on their morning business, laden with market baskets. Trees laden with summer fruit arched their branches invitingly above the colorful tiled walls that shielded the villa gardens. A few trespassing dogs and pigs chased one another across the street. Children’s laughter echoed from an open window as they rode by.
    Wheel Street lay on the fringe of this quarter and was lined with more modest houses and shops. Seregil paused across the street from the house he’d called home for more than two decades. The grapevine mosaic over the door was as bright as ever, the stone stairway below neatly scrubbed and swept. Here he could only be Lord Seregil. The Rhíminee Cat lodged elsewhere.
    â€œWe could just send word that Lord Seregil and Sir Alec were lost at sea,” he muttered.
    Alec chuckled, then walked across the street and climbed the stairs. With a sigh, Seregil followed.
    It had never mattered how long he was gone—three weeks or three years. Runcer kept the place unchanged, ready for his return.
    The door was still locked for the night, so they knocked. After a few moments a young man with a long, vaguely familiar face answered.
    â€œWhat’s your business here?” he demanded, taking in their stained traveling clothes with obvious suspicion.
    Seregil sized him up, then said, “I must see Sir Alec at once.”
    â€œHe’s not here.”
    â€œWell, where is he?” Alec demanded, falling in with the game.
    â€œHe and Lord Seregil are away on queen’s business. You may leave a message for them, if you wish.”
    â€œI do,” Seregil told him. “The message is that Lord Seregil andSir Alec have returned. Get out of the way, whoever you are. Where’s Runcer?”
    â€œI’m Runcer.”
    â€œRuncer the Younger, maybe. Where’s old Runcer?”
    â€œMy grandfather died two months ago,” the man replied, not moving. “As for who you might be, I’ll need more than just your word for that!”
    Just then a huge white hound pushed past the man and reared up to lick Seregil’s face, wagging its shaggy tail frantically.
    â€œMârag will vouch for me,” Seregil laughed, pushing the dog off and scratching her ears.
    In the end, however, they had to summon the cook to identify them. Young Runcer apologized profusely, and Seregil gave him a gold sester for his caution.
    Giving Alec first turn in the small bath chamber upstairs, Seregil wandered the house, feeling like his own ghost. The lavish woodland murals of the salon seemed garish after Sarikali’s austerity. His bedchamber upstairs, furnished in Aurënfaie style, felt more welcoming. Opening a door at the opposite end of the corridor, he smiled to himself. This had been Alec’s room. They hadn’t been lovers when they’d left.
    He’d had his own cot at the Cockerel, too.
    Turning, he found Alec leaning in the bath chamber doorway, water dripping from his hair onto his bare shoulders.
    â€œWe can’t just avoid that part of the city forever,” he said, guessing Seregil’s thoughts easily enough. “I won’t feel like we’ve really come home until I see it.”
    Seregil closed his eyes and rubbed at the lids, wishing for