Executing his best courtly bow, Alec felt his cheeks go warm. Lady Kylith's velvet gown draped a form still slender and elegant; like those worn by most other women of fashion present, it left her bosom nearly bare beneath a tissue of thinnest silk and a heavily jeweled necklace.
"What a fortunate young man you are!" purred Kylith, enveloping the boy in a languorous dark-eyed gaze that sent his heart locking again. "Our friend Lord Seregil is one of the most cultured gentlemen in the city, well versed in all the pleasures Rhнminee has to offer. I am certain you will find your time with him most enjoyable and instructive."
"You flatter me, dear lady," murmured Seregil. "But perhaps I might presume on our friendship? Would you partner Sir Alec in the first waltz? I believe the musicians have just struck up one of your favorites."
"A pleasure," replied Kylith with a curtsey.
"And perhaps you would return the boon by partnering my niece. I did, after all, promise her an evening of wicked pleasures, and I cannot think of a greater one than to dance with you."
Blushing prettily, Ysmay accepted Seregil's arm. At this signal, the other guests formed couples and assembled for the dance.
Kylith extended her hand to Alec with a dazzling smile. "Will you do me the honor, sir?"
"The honor is mine, I assure you," Alec replied. The words sounded wooden and foolish to his ears but he pressed on as best he could. "I must warn you, though, I've never been called a graceful dancer."
Taking her place in front of him, she gave him another melting look. "Think nothing of it, my dear. The instruction of inexperienced young men is one of life's unrivaled pleasures."
Seregil set about a playful flirtation with Ysmay while keeping one eye on Alec. As expected, Kylith put the boy at ease in no time. Another dance or two under her influence, and Alec would feel like he'd moved in such society his whole life. She'd had that same affect on Seregil years before.
Beginning as a courtesan in the Street of Lights, Kylith had risen to nobility when a headstrong young lord had brooked the strenuous opposition of family and class to marry her. Over the years her beauty, discretion, and lancing wit had earned her a degree of acceptance and drawn in the best of Rhнminee society to her famous gatherings. The finest artists and musicians of the day were to be found in her house, mingling with adventurers, wizards, and ministers of the highest offices. Few outside of the Queen's Park knew more than she of what went on in the council chambers and bedrooms of Rhнminee.
It had been for just such a reason that Nysander had introduced Seregil to her after the end of his ill-fated apprenticeship.
Charmed by his mysterious past and questionable reputation, Kylith had drawn him into her bright circle and, for a brief time after the death of her husband, into her bed.
He'd never been certain if she'd guessed him to be the faceless, unpredictable «Cat» of Rhнminee fame rather than a mere intermediary, but she often relayed requests for services to him, knowing that results were generally swift.
Whatever the case, she was one of the few nobles in whose discretion he had any faith. If Alec should falter in his role tonight, she would not broadcast the fact. And Alec did appear to be enjoying her company.
Keeping up his side of the agreement, he turned his full attention on Ysmay and flirted outrageously with her until she quivered in his arms.
Alec was midway through his second dance with Kylith when Micum laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Forgive me, lady, I must borrow your partner for a moment," he said, bowing to Kylith. "Alec, a word?"
Trouble?
Alec signed as Micum walked him toward the front entrance of the hall. The big man's grim sidelong glance was answer enough.
In the small entrance chamber at the front of the house they found Seregil boxed in by four bluecoats. Another was binding his hands in front of him. Seregil's old manservant, Runcer, stood wringing his hands and weeping nearby.
An officer wearing the chain of a Queen's Bailiff rolled up a black-ribboned scroll as Micum and Alec approached. Seregil's stony expression revealed nothing.
"What's going on here?" Micum demanded.
"And who might you be, sir?" replied the bailiff.
"Sir Micum Cavish of Watermead, friend of Lord Seregil. This boy is his ward, Sir Alec of Ivywell. Why are you arresting this man?"
The bailiff consulted another scroll and took a second look at the two of them. "Lord Seregil of Rhнminee stands accused of treason. I am also charged to instruct Sir Alec not to attempt to leave the city."
Eyeing the man with chilly dignity, Micum asked quietly, "Am I to understand he is under suspicion as well?"
"Not at present, Sir Micum. But those are my instructions."
"Seregil, what's happening?" asked Alec, finding his voice at last.
Seregil gave a grim shrug. "Some sort of misunderstanding, apparently. Make my apologies to the guests, would you?"
Alec nodded numbly. Glancing down at Seregil's bound hands, he saw him give the sign of Nysander's name, one long forefinger curled tightly over his thumb.
"Come along, my lord," said the bailiff, grasping Seregil's elbow.
"Where are you taking him?" Alec demanded, following as the guards led Seregil out to an enclosed black cart.
"That's not for me to say sir. Good evening."
Climbing in behind Seregil, the bailiff motioned to the driver and the cart rumbled off down the cobbled street.
"Seregil said to go to Nysander," Alec whispered, feeling Micum beside him.
"I saw. We'd better go."
"But what about the guests?"
"I'll have a quick word with Kylith. She'll manage things."
Alec watched miserably as the cart disappeared into the night. "Where do you think they're taking him?"
"It's a Queen's Warrant arrest, so it'll be Red Tower Prison," Micum said, looking bleak. "And that's one place not even Seregil can get out of on his own."
26 Plans at the Cockerel
Alec and Micum were halfway to the Orлska House when a tiny message sphere winked into being in front of them.
"Alec, Micum, come to the Cockerel at once!"
Alec blinked in surprise. "That was Thero."
"Bilairy's Balls!" muttered Micum, changing direction.
At the Cockerel they found Thero waiting for them, but not his master.
"Where's Nysander?" Alec asked, somewhat taken aback that Thero also knew how to enter Seregil's closely warded rooms.
"With the Queen," the young wizard replied, looking stiffly out of place in the midst of SeregiFs mess. "He sent me to meet you. He'll join us here as soon as he's able."
"I take it he was as surprised by the arrest as we were?" asked Micum, tossing Seregil's sword belt onto the table.
"Events have moved more rapidly than any of us anticipated. Nysander is quite worried over the fact that Idrilain did not consult with him before ordering the arrest."
"But what happened?" fretted Alec, pacing in frustration. "Nysander stopped the letter! Seregil said they'd never dare to send another without knowing what happened to the first."
"I have no idea. The Queen sent word that he'd been taken to the Red Tower, nothing more. Was the arrest carried out discreetly?"
"If it hadn't been for Runcer, we might have missed it altogether," glowered Micum.
Thero rubbed his chin pensively. "That's a hopeful sign, anyway."
For the first time in their brief acquaintance, it occurred to Alec that Thero must be a Watcher, too. With this revelation came the certainty that it was this fact, rather than any personal feelings for Seregil, which engaged his interest now.
"Do you think they'll—"
Memories tightened coldly in Alec's chest. "Do you think they'd torture him?"
Thero arched an eyebrow, considering. "That would depend on the severity of the charge, I suppose."