Traitor's Moon

radiated from Seregil like heat, but Alec ignored it, knowing it was not directed at him.
    â€œDo you think Torsin really intended—?”
    â€œIt’s exactly what he
intended
,” Seregil fumed. “For him to say that, and in front of those attendants—as if I need to be reminded why I have no name in my own country!”
    Alec set the comb aside and drew Seregil’s damp head backagainst his chest, cupping his friend’s thin cheeks in his hands. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here because Idrilain and Adzriel want you here. Give the rest time. You’ve been nothing but a legend here for forty years. Show them who you’ve become.”
    Seregil covered Alec’s hands with his own, then stood and drew him close. “Ah, talí,” he growled, hugging him. “What would I do without you, eh?”
    â€œThat’s nothing you ever have to worry about,” Alec vowed. “Now, we’ve got a feast to get through. Play Lord Seregil for all you’re worth. Confound them with your charm.”
    Seregil let out a bitter laugh. “All right, then; Lord Seregil it is, and if that’s not enough to win them, then I’m still the talímenios of the famous Hâzadriëlfaie, aren’t I? Like the moon, I’ll hang close to you through the night, reflecting your brilliance by virtue of my own dark surface.”
    â€œBehave yourself,” Alec warned. “I want you in a sweeter temper when we get back here tonight.” He brought his mouth to Seregil’s to underscore his meaning and was gratified to feel the tight lips soften and open beneath his own.
    Illior, patron of thieves and madmen, lend us the guile to survive this evening
, he thought.
    Torsin was not in evidence when a young woman of the household arrived to guide them to the feast. Thero was, however, and Alec saw that the wizard was out to make an impression; his dark blue robe was embroidered with silver vine work, and the crystal wand he’d used aboard the
Zyria
was tucked into a belt embossed with gold. Like Alec and Seregil, he also wore the flame and crescent medallion of Klia’s household.
    The feast was held in a large courtyard near the center of the clan house. Ancient trees overhung the long tables set there, their gnarled trunks and lower branches studded with hundreds of tiny lamps.
    Looking over the assembled company, Alec was relieved to see that the Gedre didn’t stand on ceremony. People of all ages were already gathered there, laughing and talking. Growing up in the northlands, the ’faie had been creatures of legend for him, magical and awesome. Standing here in the midst of a whole clan of them, Alec felt like he was back at Watermead, sharing a communal meal at day’s end.
    Spotting Beka at a table near the gate, he cast Seregil a hopefullook, but their guide was already ushering them toward the khirnari’s table beneath the largest tree. Klia and Torsin sat to Riagil’s right, Amali ä Yassara to his left. Alec was chagrined to find himself furthest from the others, seated between two of Riagil’s grandchildren.
    All the same, he found the food and etiquette involved in dining considerably less complicated than what he’d encountered at Skalan banquets.
    Poached fish, a rich venison stew, and pastries stuffed with cheese, vegetables, and spices were served with baskets of bread shaped into fanciful animals. Platters of roasted vegetables, nuts, and several kinds of olives soon followed. Attentive stewards kept his cup filled with a spicy drink his dining companions called
rassos
.
    No formal entertainment had been arranged; instead, various guests of the feast simply stood up on their benches and started a song or performed some colorful magical trick. As the meal progressed and the rassos flowed, these impromptu exhibitions grew more frequent and more boisterous.
    Too far from the others to participate in their conversation, Alec looked with envy toward Beka’s table. The riders of Urgazhi Turma were mingling sociably with those of the Aurënfaie honor guard. The interpreter, Nyal, was seated beside Beka, and the two looked to be sharing some joke.
    Seregil also seemed to be making the best of things. Amali was still ignoring him, but he’d managed to strike up a conversation with several other ’faie. Catching Alec watching, Seregil gave him an amused wave, as if to say, “Be charming and