"It all started three years ago. Lord Teukros was involved in that massive land speculation in the western territories which failed so miserably."
"I recall the scandal," said Nysander. "I had no idea Teukros had any part in it."
"He was ruined," Phoria told him. "In the end he owed several millions to the man who'd backed the whole scheme, a Lord Herleus."
"Herleus?" Nysander searched his memory for a face to go with the name.
"Killed during a boar hunt later that same year," Idrilain informed him. "After his death, some evidence was found suggesting he'd been a Leran sympathizer, though nothing could be proven at the time."
"Ah, I begin to see."
"Teukros was ruined," Phoria continued. "Even Barien hadn't the ready funds to save him, and Herleus would not be reasoned with. Barien told me he'd advised Teukros to accept his shame and flee the country, and at first Teukros agreed. A day later, however, he came back to his uncle with a plan to save the family name."
"And this plan involved the forging of certain documents which, after the Queen herself, only Barien had access to?"
Phoria nodded. "Apparently Teukros had gone to plead with Herleus one last time. It was then that Herleus suggested that Barien's position would allow him to divert treasury gold from the Gold Road shipments. Herleus introduced Teukros to Alben, who could forge the necessary papers. The long and the short of it is, poor Barien couldn't bear to see his spineless scoundrel of a nephew disgraced and agreed to it all. They needed my help in rerouting the gold and, for Barien's sake, I agreed. We both regretted it after, but we thought the whole affair was over and done until Alben turned up in this business with Lord Seregil."
Nysander stroked his short beard thoughtfully. "I must hear the details of the plan, of course, but I am still uncertain as to how Barien, whom you say knew nothing of Alben, made the connection between this creature and his nephew during the confession."
Phoria sighed heavily. "Alben spoke of the White Hart. That was the name of the vessel the stolen gold was put onto at Cirna."
"Ah, and as high commander of the cavalry detachments assigned to guard such shipments, your approval was needed to reroute the gold. As was Barien's to alter the treasury manifest. Both of you needed to know the name of the vessel, if little else."
Phoria met his eye stonily. "I should have refused. I should have stopped him. I offer no excuse for my actions."
Idrilain took a rolled document from the side table and passed it to Nysander. "This is Barien's will, dated three years ago. You'll find he left his entire fortune and holdings to the Skalan treasury. It's more than adequate repayment."
Slapping a hand down on the table, she rose to pace the room. "As if I wouldn't have forgiven him or tried to help! That wonderful, damnable old-fashioned honor of his destroyed him and cost me the most valuable councilor I had, not to mention the trust of my heir apparent. And all on account of a young idiot not worth the price of the rocks to crush him!"
Phoria flinched visibly. "I shall relinquish all claim to the throne, of course."
"You will do nothing of the sort!" shouted Idrilain, rounding on her. "With a war brewing and Lerans in the back pantry, the last thing this country needs is the uproar of an abdication. You made a mistake—a stupid, prideful mistake—and now you've seen the consequences. As the future queen of this land, you will accept responsibility for your actions and put the needs of Skala before your own. As the high commander of my cavalry forces, you will remain at your post and carry out your duties. Is that clear?"
White-faced, Phoria dropped to one knee and raised a fist to her chest in salute. "I will, my Queen!"
"Oh, get up and finish your report." Turning away in disgust, Idrilain dropped back into her chair.
Rising, Phoria resumed her rigid stance. "As far as I know, the gold was delivered to the Hart as planned. Barien never mentioned the matter to me again until the night of his death."
For an instant a small tremor disturbed the masklike composure of her face. It was the first time in years Nysander had seen her show the hint of any strong emotion other than anger. It passed as quickly as it had come, however.
"Barien went to Teukros and confronted him, wanting to know why he'd continued an association with the forger," she went on. "Apparently Teukros denied everything having to do with the Leran plot and Seregil, but did admit to using Alben's talents to facilitate some shady shipping deals."
"The secret of his fortune, I suspect," said Nysander. "I should hardly have given him credit for such ability, yet it seems we may have underestimated the wretch after all. General Phoria, do you think Barien arranged to have Teukros killed the night of his own death?"
"He said nothing of the kind to me."
"Did you arrange to have Teukros killed?"
"No." For the first time in some minutes Phoria locked eyes with him and Nysander found no reason to doubt her words.
"Is there anything else you can tell me of this business with the Hart?"
"Nothing beyond the fact that Barien could never ascertain exactly what happened to the gold. Herleus ceased his demands for money, and a few months later he was dead. Nothing was mentioned of it during the disposition of his estate, but that's hardly surprising. I suppose his heirs have lived rather well off their secret reserve."
"Perhaps," said Nysander, unconvinced that the answer would be that simple.
Armed with Nysander's report from the Palace, Seregil and Alec disappeared for the rest of the day.
They returned to the tower before dark, however, still dressed in the hooded robes of professional scholars and smudged with fine bookish dust.
Micum, who'd spent the afternoon with Nysander, exchanged a grin with the old wizard; Seregil and the boy both had the happy look of hounds on a warm scent. It was the most cheerful either of them had looked in days.
"Herleus had no heirs!" Seregil cackled happily, warming his hands at the workroom fire.
"None at all?" Nysander raised a shaggy eyebrow in surprise.
"Not only that," the boy added excitedly, "but his entire estate was impounded for debt right after he died. There was no sign of any gold."
"You have been to the city archives, then?"
"And down to the lower city again," said Seregil.
"Oh, we've had a busy afternoon, Alec and I. We're off to Cirna tomorrow."
"Hold on now, you've lost me," Micum broke in. "What were you looking for in the lower city?"
"Shipping records," Seregil replied. "The White Hart is listed as belonging to a shipping line owned by the Tyremian family of Rhнminee, but it turns out she was based out of Cirna, so that's where all her manifests would be kept, if they've been kept."
Micum nodded slowly. "Then you believe there's some connection between that stolen gold and the plot against you?"
"It appears that the same people were involved in both plots, and that they're probably Lerans. If I'm wrong, then we've damn—all to go on."
Micum narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "This is another one of your 'instinct' things, isn't it?"
"Even so, I believe he may be correct," Nysander said. "Teukros' falling into debt with a suspected Leran smacks of a conspiracy. What greater coup for them than to ensnare Barien's compliance through his beloved nephew? We must, at all costs, try to determine the ultimate destination of that gold. Assuming, as Seregil has noted, that the evidence still exists."
"There's always a chance," said Seregil. "You coming north with us, Micum?"
He shook his head. "Doesn't sound like you need me, and I imagine Kari's eager to get me back. I'll ride as far as Watermead with you, though. You can break your journey with us, if you like."