"Stamie. She's the head cook's niece."
"Good work. She could be our key to the back door if we ever need one."
"So what do we do now?" Micum asked restlessly.
"Alec can't show up to romance the girl when he's supposed to be on the road back to Rhнminee."
"I know." Running a hand back through his hair, Seregil encountered Thero's cropped curls and dropped his hand with a grimace. "So far we only have Alec's guess that the papers came here at all. Barien's serving maid could just as well have taken them when she met up with Teukros' man in the tavern."
"That's not what it all sounded like to me," Alec maintained stubbornly, nettled at this sudden doubt.
"Yes, but you only caught a few words. It's unwise to base assumptions on scant evidence. You end up leading yourself into all kinds of blind alleys."
"But what about the horses I saw in the yard?"
"Were any of them white?"
"Well, no. But Teukros could have changed mounts there."
"And ridden home on a different one?" Seregil cocked a skeptical eye at him. "To what end if he's already made no secret of his destination?"
"But the fact remains that we did see Teukros ride out last night," Alec insisted. "And he did tell his wife he was coming here."
"A lie to cover his tracks perhaps," suggested Seregil. "There's no reason to assume that he'd tell her the truth."
"Maybe we should head back to the city and see what Nysander's turned up," suggested Micum.
"You mean we're just going to leave?" asked Alec.
Nysander or not, he'd been inside the place and didn't like the feel of it.
"For now," Seregil said, heading for the horses. "You did a fine job. If nothing else, it was good practice for you."
Thoroughly let down, Alec stole a last resentful look at the keep looming over the gorge, then hurried away after the others.
32 Nasty Surprises
As they reached the Sea Gate that afternoon, Seregil was the first to notice that the guard had been doubled.
"Something's happened," he murmured as they rode into the crowded square.
"You got that right," said Micum, looking around.
"Let's see what it is."
Tight knots of people stood everywhere among the booths, heads together, faces serious. Ignored by their elders, gangs of children ran about wildly, teasing each other and daring their fellows to nick sweets from the unattended stalls.
Riding up to a small group of gossips, Micum threw back his cloak to show his red Orлska tunic.
"I've been away from the city. What's the news?" he asked.
"It's the Viceregent," a woman told him tearfully. "Poor Lord Barien's dead!"
Alec let out a gasp of surprise. "Illior's Light! How did it happen?"
"No one's certain," she replied, wiping her eyes with a corner of her apron.
"He was murdered!" exclaimed a rough-looking character beside her. "Them Plenimaran bastards will be behind it, just you wait and see!"
"Oh, shut your hole, Farkus. Don't be spreading rumors," growled another man, nervously eyeing Micum's livery. "He don't know nothing, sir. All anyone's heard for certain is the Viceregent was found dead this morning."
"Many thanks," Micum said.
Kicking their horses into a gallop, they rode for the Orлska House. Nysander looked pale but composed when he let them in at the tower door.
"We heard Barien's dead. What happened?" asked Seregil.
Nysander walked across to his desk and sat down, hands folded on its stained surface. "It appears to have been suicide."
"Appears?" Seregil sensed some strong emotion behind his friend's carefully controlled manner, but could not guess what it might be.
"He was found lying peacefully in his bed with his wrists cut," Nysander continued. "The blood had soaked down into the mattress. Nothing appeared amiss until the bedclothes were thrown back."
"Did you talk to him last night?" asked Alec.
Nysander shook his head bitterly. "No. He had gone to bed before I arrived. It was so late and there seemed to be no danger of him bolting. I actually—"
Breaking off, he handed Micum a parchment. "I suppose he was composing this when I looked in on him. Read it out, if you would."
Barien's last, brief missive was as formal as any of the thousands of state documents he'd drawn up over the course of his long career. The handwriting flowed in dark, perfect lines across the page without a blot or waver, devoid of the slightest hint of hesitation.
"My Queen," read Micum, was "Know that I, Barien i Zhal Mordecan Thorlin Uliel, have in these last years of my service to you committed high treason. My actions were deliberate, considered, and inexcusable. I offer no justification but pray you to believe that in the end I died the Queen's man." He's signed it, "Barien, Traitor."
"Illior's Eyes, how could I have been such a fool?" groaned Nysander, pressing a hand to his brow.
"But this proves nothing," Seregil exclaimed in exasperation. "There are no details, no names, no specifics of any kind."
"Idrilain is aware of our investigations. I believe she understands the import of this letter," replied the wizard.
"Oh, that's fine then," Seregil snapped, pacing to the far end of the room. "Unless she suddenly begins to wonder why he died immediately after you began looking into his activities. Suppose she begins to question whether your loyalty to me is greater than to her? That's still my body there in the Tower, you know. I want it back in one piece!"
Micum looked the letter over again. "Couldn't this be a forgery? Sakor's Flames, we've just been dealing with some of the best forgers in Rhнminee."
"And what about Teukros?" added Alec. "It's his word against Kassarie's that he intended to go there at all. He could have gone to Barien's instead. He could have gotten into the house easily enough, being family. Once in, he kills his uncle, drops the note, and slips out again. I told you before, Barien was angry
with him over something."
Nysander shook his head. "There were no signs of violence or magic on Barien's person or in the room."
"Doors?" interjected Seregil.
"Locked from within. And as for the matter of Teukros' disappearance, if a man of Barien's stamp believed his nephew had betrayed the family's honor, he himself may have taken steps to remove the young man, a last act of family duty. There is ample precedent for such practices among that class. But the fact remains that whatever Alec heard them arguing about last night, it must surely have contributed to Barien's death."
"What about Phoria?" asked Micum. "It appears she was one of the last people to see him alive, and at his summons, too. Has anyone talked to her?"
"By all reports, the Princess Royal is in deep mourning and is seeing no one," answered Nysander.
"That's vague enough," mused Seregil. "Do you think she's involved?"
"Before Barien's death I should not have thought so. Now I fear we must admit the possibility. If that does somehow prove to be the case, you may be certain it will be dealt with by higher authorities than you or I."
Seregil continued his uneasy perambulation around the room. "Which still leaves us with one man dead and one missing. Have their houses been tossed?"
Nysander nodded. "A small cache of forged shipping manifests was uncovered at Teukros' villa. With them were found copies of several seals, including yours and those of Lord Vardarus, Birutus i Tolomon, and Lady Royan a Zhirini."
"My seal and that of Vardarus; that's clear enough."