Jewels winked in the dark coils of the young woman's hair as she turned Alec's way. More jewels sparkled in the intricate necklace that covered her chest. In fact, Alec saw, the necklace was very nearly the only thing covering her breasts. The bosom of the dress was cut so low the top of one nipple peeped out from the fretwork of gems and gold.
"I must thank you again, dear aunt, for bringing me tonight!" the girl exclaimed. "I nearly swooned when you presented me to him. I can still feel his lips on my hand."
"A fact I pray your esteemed father never learns," her aunt replied with a low, musical laugh. "I felt just the same the first time I met him. He's one of the most charming men in Rhнminee, and so handsome! But take care, my dear. No woman has ever held his fancy for long, or man either. But now for that excellent manuscript. Which room is it?"
"This one, I think," replied the girl, making straight for the room where Alec was hiding. He pressed back against the wall behind the door, hoping for the best.
"La, this isn't it," the aunt exclaimed as the candles illuminated a bedchamber similar to the one at the back of the house.
"Is it his room?" breathed Ysmay, stepping toward the bed.
"I shouldn't think so. See that painted chest there? Mycenian work. Not his sort of thing at all. Come, my dear, I think I have my bearings now."
As soon as the women had disappeared into a room down the corridor, Alec bolted silently for the first bedchamber. Not daring to chance the lightstone again, he found the dim outline of the little window and made for it.
He hadn't gone three paces when a large, callused hand clamped over his mouth. Another seized his right arm, pinning it behind his back as he twisted and struggled.
"Hold him!" a voice hissed from somewhere across the room.
"Got him!" a deep voice rasped next to Alec's ear. The hand across his mouth clamped tighter. "Not a sound, you. And quit yer wigglin'!"
A lightstone appeared and his captor swung him roughly about to face it. Alec gave another convulsive twist, then froze with a strangled grunt of astonishment.
Standing there, one arm propped on the corner of the mantel, was Seregil. At his waved command, the man holding Alec released him and he spun to find himself facing Micum Cavish.
"By the Flame, boy, you're worse than an eel to hang on to!" Micum exclaimed softly.
"Did you get the case?" asked Seregil.
"Yes, I got it," Alec whispered, casting a nervous glance in the direction of the door. "But what are you doing in here?"
Seregil shrugged. "And why shouldn't I be in my own bedroom?"
"Your own— Yours?" sputtered Alec. "I went through all that to burgle your house?"
"Not so loud! Don't you see? We wanted to make sure you had a proper challenge."
Alec glared at the two of them, cheeks aflame, all his careful work reduced to a ridiculous charade. "By breaking into your own house? What kind of a challenge is that?"
"Don't take on so," Seregil said in honest consternation. "You just got into one of the most difficult houses in the city! I admit, I removed a few of the more deadly wards, but do you think just any common tickler could have gotten past those locks you found?"
"This is the last place we'd send you into if we didn't think you were ready," added Micum.
Alec chewed this over angrily for a long moment, arms locked across his chest. "Well, it was pretty hard. The study door was nearly the end of me."
"You see!" Seregil cried, throwing an arm around Alec's shoulders and giving the boy a rough hug.
"For plain housebreaking I'd say you acquitted yourself boldly. In fact, you surprised us both by weaseling in through that little window. Remind me to see to that tomorrow, will you? And that was a quick bit of thinking when the ladies wandered through."
Alec pulled back, eyes narrowing suspiciously again. "You sent them!"
"Actually, that was my idea," said Micum. "You were having such an easy time of it. Admit it now, it will make a better story later on with that."
"So what now?" asked Alec, still wary. "Tonight, I mean."
"Tonight?" Seregil's grin went crooked. "Why, tonight we have guests to attend to."
"The party? This party? Now? You said before you were doing that in a couple of days!"
" Did I? Well, it's a-lucky thing we're already dressed for the occasion. By the way, how did you like your new room?"
Alec grinned sheepishly, recalling the woman's remark about the painted Mycenian chest in the room where he'd hidden. "From what little I saw of it, it seems very useful."
Reluctantly following Micum and Seregil downstairs, he found himself faced with a room full of elegant strangers.
Dozens of thick candles lit the room, their honeyed scent like the distillation of long-dead summers. Their radiance was given back everywhere in the flash of jewels and the sheen of silks and polished leather.
The salon itself was no less elegant than those who occupied it. The high walls of the room had been painted to look like a forest glade, the tops of life-size oaks extending up across the vaulted ceiling overhead. Garlands of brightly flowering vines adorned the trees, and between their trunks distant mountains and ocean vistas were visible.
Musicians played on a carved balcony overhead.
Seregil paused halfway down the great staircase and laid a hand on Alec's arm.
"Most honored guests!" he called, assuming the formal manner he'd used while playing Lady Gwethelyn aboard the Darter.
"Allow me to present my ward and companion, Sir Alec of Ivywell, lately of Mycena. Make yourselves known to him, I pray you, for he is new to our great city and has made few acquaintances."
Alec's mouth went dry as dozens of expectant faces turned to him.
"Steady now," whispered Micum. "Just remember who you're supposed to be." Slipping the boy a covert luck sign, he moved off into the crowd.
At the bottom of the stairs, a servant stepped forward with a tray of iced wine. Alec took a cup and drained it in a hasty gulp.
"Go easy with that," Seregil murmured, propelling him gently forward. Playing the gracious host, he made a circuit of the room, moving smoothly from one knot of conversation to another.
The guests seemed to be mostly minor nobles and wealthy merchants associated with "Lord Seregil's" business interests. There was much talk of caravans and shipping, but the most popular topic was clearly the possibility of war in the spring.
"I hardly think there can be any question," sniffed a young nobleman introduced to Alec as Lord Melwhit.
"Preparations have been going on since summer."
"Indeed," a portly lord grumbled over his wine cup. "You can hardly come by a decent stick of lumber these last few months with the requisitioners snapping up everything in sight. I doubt I shall be able to complete my solarium before spring!"
"Wolde cloth?" a woman exclaimed nearby.
"Don't speak to me of Wolde cloth! With all the new tariffs, I can scarcely afford a new riding mantle. And gold? Mark my words, Lord Decius, before this is over we shall all be reduced to wearing beads and feathers."
"And what a delightful fashion that would prove," exclaimed her companion.
Trailing along with Seregil, Alec suddenly found himself face-to-face with the two women he'd seen upstairs.
"Allow me to introduce a very dear friend of mine," said Seregil with a hint of his wicked smile.
"Lady Kylith, may I present Sir Alec of Ivywell. Sir Alec, Lady Kylith of Rhнminee, and her niece, Lady Ysmay of Orutan."