Traitor's Moon

the Haman clan made no secret of their animosity. As always, however, Seregil preferred to battle his demons alone. Alec’s love might be welcome; his concern was not.
    Adzriel noted her brother’s withdrawalone night during a visit with Klia, and Alec’s muted pain. Putting an arm about his shoulders, she hugged him and whispered, “The bond is there, talí. For now, let it be enough. When he’s ready he will come to you.”
    Alec had no choice but to heed her advice. Fortunately, he had work of his own to do. As he became more familiar with his surroundings, he went more often alone and soon formed a few alliances of his own—and among the class he’d always been most at home with.
    While the Iia’sidra and influential clan members spent their days in solemn debate, the lesser members of the various households frequented the city’s makeshift taverns and gaming houses. Alec’s bow was as good as a letter of introduction in such company. Unlike Seregil, most Aurënfaie were consummate archers and loved to argue makes and weights as much as any northland hunter. Some favored longbows; others carried gracefully reflexed masterpieces of wood and horn. But none had seen anything quite like his Black Radly, and curiosity almost always led to friendly shooting contests.
    Alec had fashioned a few shatta from Skalan coins, and these were much sought after, but he generally won more than he lost and he soon had a respectable collection dangling from his quiver strap.
    Such pastimes bore other fruit, giving him access to that most useful of resources, the careless chatter servants exchange out of their masters’ hearing. Gossip was gold to any spy, and Alec quietly took note. In this way, he learned that the Khatme khirnari, Lhaär ä Iriel, had taken an interest in Klia’s occasional evening rides with the young Silmai horseman, Täanil í Khormai. Alec even managed to sow a few rumors about that himself, though the truth was that Klia found the man something of a bore.
    Alec also picked up reliable rumors that the khirnari of several key minor clans supposedly aligned with friendly Datsia had been seen visiting Ra’basi tupa under cover of night.
    Perhaps his most important discovery, however, was that the khirnari of Lhapnos had quarreled with his supposed ally, Nazien í Hari, over support for Skala, and that several of the Haman’s own people had taken the Lhapnosan’s side. Principal among the dissenters was Alec’s nemesis, Emiel í Moranthi.
    â€œThis is a new development,” Lord Torsin remarked as Alec made his nightly report to Klia.
    The princess gave Alec a wink. “You see, my lord? I told you he’d earn his keep.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Their tenth night in Sarikali brought a welcome respite. For the first time since their arrival they had no outside obligations, and Klia sent word for the evening meal to be a simple, communal affair in the main hall.
    Alec was in the stable yard passing the time with some of Braknil’s men when Seregil returned from the Iia’sidra alone.
    â€œHad a good day, did you, my lord?” Minál called out.
    â€œNot especially,” Seregil snapped, not slowing as he disappeared into the house.
    With an inward sigh, Alec followed him up to their chamber.
    â€œAura’s Fingers, I was never meant to be a diplomat!” Seregil burst out as soon as they were alone. A button flew across the room as he yanked off his coat. He flung it into a corner and the sweat-soaked shirt beneath quickly followed. Grabbing the ewer from the washstand, he stalked out onto the balcony and emptied it over his head.
    â€œYou might have been a bit more pleasant to poor Minál,” Alec chided, leaning against the doorframe. “He thinks a lot of you, you know.”
    Ignoring him, Seregil slicked the water from his eyes and pushed past him into the room. “No matter
what
Klia or Torsin says, someone manages to twist it around into a threat. ‘We need iron.’ ‘Oh, no, you want to colonize the Asheks!’ ‘Let us use a northern port.’ ‘You would steal Ra’basi’s trade routes?’
    â€œUlan í Sathil is the worst, though he seldom speaks. Oh, no! He just sits there, smiling as if he agrees with everything we say. Then, with a single well-chosen comment, he throws everyone into an uproar again and sits back to