Chastened, Alec took up his spoon again and began picking at the bird before him. "But what about my sword training?"
"Ah, yes. Well, I suspect the problem may be more me than you."
Alec eyed him skeptically. "Micum said you're one of the best swordsmen he's ever known!"
"That's the problem. With me, it's all here." Seregil tapped a finger over his heart.
"Swordplay comes as naturally to me as breathing; it always did. It's all aggression and skill and intuition. So every time you drop your guard or turn your shoulder forward, I lunge in and exploit the mistake. All I've managed to do so far is make you doubt yourself. No, this is the one thing I can't teach you. That's why I've decided to send you out to Watermead."
Alec looked up sharply. "But we've hardly—"
"I know, I know!" Seregil interrupted, hoping to forestall another argument over Alec being left out of his work. "It's only for a week, and the rest of it can wait that long. I have to deliver Beka's commissioning papers anyway, so we'll ride out today."
Just then a brisk rap sounded at the door, startling Alec.
"Don't worry," said Seregil. "Anyone who can still knock after climbing my stairs is a friend. That you, Nysander?"
"Good day to you both." The scent of magic clung around the wizard as he strode in, though he was dressed in the same ordinary clothing he'd worn the day Alec had first seen him on the docks. "Ah, I see I am in time for one of Thryis' excellent meals!"
Seregil raised a questioning eyebrow. "I thought we were to meet tonight?"
"In truth, I have rather missed seeing Alec. You have been keeping him very busy. Unfortunately, that is not my only reason for coming. I should like your opinion on this."
Drawing a small scroll tube from his pocket, he handed it to Seregil. A wax seal still dangled from one of the ribbons tied around it.
"It's one of mine," Seregil remarked in surprise, examining the seal. His look of puzzlement deepened as he extracted a sheet of creamy vellum from the tube and glanced over it. "This is a note I wrote to Baron Lycenias last spring, thanking him for a week's hunting at his estate. You sent me there yourself, remember? That business about Lady Northil."
"I suggest you read it over carefully."
"Let's see; the crest is in order, and it's dated the third day of Lithion. That should be right.
"My Dear Lycenias i Marron, allow me to again proffer my heartfelt thanks for a most enjoyable-" Yes, yes, the usual rubbish; fine hunting, laudable companionship, what a—" He broke off with an incredulous laugh.
"Bilairy's Balls, Nysander! It appears I'm thanking him for several nights of carnal pleasure, as well. As if I'd take on that reeking tub of guts!"
"Keep reading; it gets worse."
Seregil read on, eyes flashing indignantly, but an instant later he went pale. Carrying the letter to the window, he inspected it closely, then reread it.
"What's wrong?" Alec demanded.
"This isn't good." Seregil tugged at a stray strand of hair as he studied the note. "For all intents and purposes, this is my handwriting, right down to the great flourish connecting the final word of the letter to my signature-which I always do to prevent exactly what has somehow happened here."
"Someone's changed what it says?"
"They certainly have. "Regarding Tarin Dhial, you may rest assured of my complete support." No, this isn't good at all!"
"I don't understand. What's wrong?" Alec said, turning to Nysander.
"Tarin Dhial is an encrypted form of the name of a Plenimaran spy caught buying information from several Skalan nobles," Nysander explained. "They were all executed as traitors two months ago."
"Argragil and Mortain," said Seregil, nodding thoughtfully.
"Both guests of Lycenias that same week I was there. I had no idea what they were up to at the time! I suppose you've checked this for magic?"
"Not a trace. Unless you can prove forgery, this could be most damaging."
"But how did you come into possession of it?"
"It was sent anonymously to Lord Barien this morning."
"The Viceregent?"
"Oh, yes. Fortunately I have several Watchers among his staff. One of them recognized your seal and waylaid the document before it was seen. There may be other copies, however. I shudder to contemplate the colossal scandal that could arise should one of these fall into the wrong hands. Such embarrassment for the Queen is unthinkable, a perfect coup for the Lerans!"
Unnoticed by the others, Alec looked up sharply at this last comment, then stole a quick glance at Seregil's face. Certain suspicions he'd been nursing for some time were beginning to take clearer shape.
"There are only three forgers capable of this quality," Seregil mused.
"Fortunately, two of them are right here in the city.
It shouldn't take long to find out if they're involved. I've already tried to tie them into the Vardarus business with no success. Still, for something as large as this, I can't imagine the Lerans going too far afield. They're better organized than usual but probably still fiercely insular. That's always been their undoing in the past."
"I shall leave it to you for the time being," said Nysander, standing to go. "Keep me closely informed and if things should turn ugly, depend on me to remove you from harm's way. Farewell, Alec."
"If things turn ugly for me, then you'll have problems of your own!" Seregil warned, accompanying him to the door.
"Seregil? Is all this because you're Aurлnfaie?" Alec blurted out suddenly.
Thunderstruck, Seregil turned to stare at him. "Where did you near that?"
"You mean after all this time you still had not told him?" exclaimed Nysander, equally shocked.
"Then it's true?" Alec was grinning now.
"Actually, I was waiting for him to figure it out for himself," Seregil countered, shifting uncomfortably under Nysander's displeased gaze. "Well done, Alec. I'm just surprised it took you so long."
"Indeed?" Nysander said, giving him a last dark look. "Then the two of you have much to discuss. I shall leave you to it. Farewell!"
Returning to the table, Seregil sank his head in his hands. "Really, Alec. Of all the moments to choose!"
"I'm sorry," Alec said, coloring hotly. "It just came out."
"Who told you? Thryis? Cilia? Someone at the Orлska?"
"I figured it out myself, just now," Alec admitted. "It's the only explanation that makes sense. The way your friends speak of you, all the stories—after a while I began to wonder how someone so young could have done so much. I mean, looking at you I'd say you were no more than twenty-five, but Micum's older than that and he spoke once of meeting you when he was a young man, so you must be a lot older than you look. Once I figured that out, then things you'd told me or refused to tell me came back and I started wondering even more. Like why half the books here are written in Aurлnfaie—"
"How in the world did you know that?"
"Nysander showed me some Aurлnfaie writing while we were staying at the Orлska House. I can't read it, but I recognize the characters. I've had plenty of time to poke around, you know, all these nights you've been gone."
"Very enterprising of you," said Seregil, wincing a bit as the barb struck home. "But why didn't you ask earlier?"
"I still wasn't sure until Nysander said it would be a terrible scandal if the Lerans could make you out to be a traitor. Micum and Nysander both said you're related to the Queen. The best thing for the Lerans would be if a relative of the Queen who is also a friend to her daughter, former apprentice to her favorite wizard, and an Aurлnfaie was caught selling information to the Plenimarans."