She seemed strangely familiar to Alec; after a moment's puzzled thought he realized that she must have been the model for the disguise Seregil had assumed when he booked their passage in Boersby.
"How many leeks did you put into the stew, Cilia?" she was demanding of a buxom young woman stirring a pot. "It smells weak to me. It's not too late to add another. And a pinch more salt.
"Kyour, you lazy pup, get that platter out there! Those draymen will box your ears for you if you make them wait any longer for their supper, and so will I! Has the wine gone out to the merchants in the side room?
"Cilia, has it?"
Everyone in the kitchen seemed accustomed to their mistress' sharp tongue and bustled about their duties with an air of busy contentment. Cilia, the apparent second in command, moved serenely among the servants, pausing occasionally to look into a cradle near the hearth.
Motioning for Alec to follow, Seregil made his way around the long tables without either of the busy women noticing his approach. Coming up behind Thryis, he surprised her with a quick peck on the cheek.
"By the Flame," she exclaimed, pressing her free hand to her cheek. "So here you are at last!"
"It's only been half a year," Seregil replied, smiling down on her.
"If only you'd sent word I'd have had something special for you! All we have tonight is red fire beef and lamb stew. The bread is fresh, though, and Cilia's made mince tarts. Cilia, fetch a plate of tarts for him to start with while I put together something."
"There's no need for that just yet. Both of you come into the lading room for a moment."
Catching sight of Alec, Thryis paused and looked him over with a sharp eye. "Who's this?"
"I'll explain in a moment." Taking a small lamp from the mantel, Seregil led Alec and the two women through a side door into the lading room. The broad door Alec had seen from the outside stood barred at their left. To the right, a wooden stairway led to the second floor.
"Thryis, Cilia, this is Alec," Seregil told them when he'd closed the kitchen door.
"He'll be living upstairs now."
"Welcome to the Cockerel, Lord Alec,"
Cilia greeted him with a warm smile.
"It's just Alec," he said quickly, liking her kind face at once.
"Is that so?" Thryis said, giving him a decidedly sharp look, though Alec couldn't imagine why she should be suspicious of him.
"Alec's a friend," Seregil told her. "Everyone here will accord him the same respect that they do me, which in your case is little enough. He'll come and go as he pleases and you'll answer no questions about him to anyone. Inform Diomis and the others."
"Just as you wish, sir." Thryis gave Alec a final dubious glance. "Your rooms are just as you left them. Shall I send up wine?"
"Yes, and some cold supper." Turning back to Cilia, Seregil wrapped an arm about her waist, making her blush. "I see you've regained your maidenly shape. How's the baby?"
"Young Luthas is well. He's a sweet one, no trouble at all."
"And the business?"
Thryis pulled a long face. "A bit slack. But Festival time isn't far off. I'll have an accounting ready for you in the morning."
"Don't trouble yourself." Seregil turned to head up the stairs, then paused. "Is Ruetha around?"
"That animal!" Thryis rolled her eyes.
"Disappeared soon as you left, same as always. I even put out cream for her this time, but the ungrateful wretch never showed so much as a whisker. Now that you're back, she'll probably be in by breakfast like always."
"Thryis never changes," Seregil said with a hint of fondness, leading Alec up the back stairs.
"Whether I've been gone for two days or six months, she always tells me I should have let her know I was coming, which I never do; apologizes for the menu, which is never necessary; promises an accounting, which I never look at; and then complains about my cat."
At the second floor, the stairs turned sharply and continued up to what appeared to be an attic. A short, dimly lit corridor, broken only by a few closed doors, ran in the direction of the main building.
"That door at the end opens into the main inn." Seregil pointed down the hall. "It's kept locked at all times. This door closest to us is a storeroom, the next are the rooms of Diomis and the women. Diomis is Thryis' son and Cilia is his daughter."
"What about Cilia's husband?" Alec asked.
"No woman ever needed a husband to have a baby. There was talk of conscription last year, and Cilia simply made certain she wouldn't be eligible. She even offered me the honor, which I politely declined. Sometime later she turned up with a big belly. Thryis was a sergeant in her younger days, and none too pleased with her granddaughter, but the damage was already done, so to speak. Now come this way and pay close attention. I have a few things to show you."
The attic stairway was steep. Holding up the small lamp, Seregil went halfway up and pointed to the bare plastered wall on the left.
"Listen and watch the wall," he said softly. " Etuis miдra koriatьan cyris."
For a brief second, Alec caught the soft glow of magical symbols like those he'd seen at the Orлska House. They were gone too quickly for him to see them clearly or be certain of how many there had been, but as they vanished a narrow section of the wall swung back like a door. Seregil motioned him through, then closed the door firmly after and continued up a precariously steep set of steps ending at a blank wall. At the top of the stairs Seregil stopped and said, " Clarin, magril, nodense."
Another door appeared and Alec felt air moving against his face as they stepped into a cold, dusty room.
"Almost there," Seregil whispered. "Watch your step."
Picking their way among the crates and boxes jumbled around the floor, they reached the far wall.
"Here we are. Bфkthersa!»
A third door opened in the seemingly blank wall, revealing another dark room beyond.
"Welcome to my humble abode," Seregil said, ushering him through with a crooked grin.
Stepping in, Alec barked his shin against a stone basilisk beside the door. Reaching out to steady himself, he felt thick wall hangings beneath his hand. He could make out little in the darkness, but this place smelled of things more exotic than dust.
"Better stay put until I get some more light," Seregil advised. The little lamp bobbed this way and that as he crossed the room, revealing tantalizing glimpses of polished wood and patterned carpet. Suddenly it jogged to one side and Alec heard the sound of something heavy falling over, immediately followed by a muffled curse. The light bobbed precariously, then came to rest on a cluttered mantelpiece where its light was reflected in a hundred hues by a pile of jewels spilling from a half-open box that stood there.
Rummaging around for a moment, Seregil found a jar of fire stones and shook one out onto the wood laid ready on the hearth. Flames crackled up at once and he went around the room lighting candles and lamps.
Alec stepped forward with a soft exclamation of wonder as the room brightened. The place glowed with the rich colors of tapestries and easily rivaled Nysander's workroom in the variety and disorder of its contents. Slowly turning about, he tried to take it all in.
Shelves packed with books and racks of scrolls covered half the wall opposite the door. More books were stacked on the dining table that stood in the center of the room, and still more on the mantel. An immense carpet woven in patterns of red, blue, and gold lay between the central table and the hearth. Rush matting covered the rest of the floor.