"Can't be helped. At least we've got a connection to work with and that's a start. And you'll never guess
who else came riding out of that gate a short while ago."
"Who?"
"Only the Lord Viceregent himself. You should have seen him! I didn't know the old fellow could ride like that."
"Barien?" Alec's eyes widened as a memory snapped into place. "Maker's Mercy, that's it! This is Lord Teukros' house. The Viceregent's nephewl I knew I'd seen him before, that day I rode around the Ring."
"The nephew, eh? By the Flame, that looks bad-though I can't imagine Barien mixed up in anything disloyal to the Queen!"
"He was cursing Teukros when I first got there," Alec told him. "He called him a viper and disowned him."
"Well, that's a strike in the old man's favor. Come on, we'd better go let the others know."
Still smarting over the loss of Teukros, Alec was in a dour mood by the time he and Micum reached Nysander's door.
"Good hunting?" the wizard inquired, letting them into the workroom.
"In a manner of speaking," Micum replied.
"Is Seregil back?"
"No, he was up to something in the vicinity of the Palace when I last checked. Come downstairs and warm yourselves. You both look quite damp."
Standing before the sitting room fire, Alec carefully recounted their evening's work. Nysander made no effort to hide his dismay over what they'd learned and sat silently for some moments after he'd finished.
"What do you think?" Alec ventured. "Could Barien be mixed up in something like this?"
"It is difficult to imagine. Young Teukros is another matter, however. In spite of his obvious wealth, Teukros i Kallas is not known for his perspicacity. Whatever his involvement in this, I would wager that he is acting at the direction of another."
"We'd have found out if we could have followed him tonight," grumbled Alec.
"Patience, dear boy. It should not be difficult to obtain that information. You said Lord Teukros' pretty wife is at home tonight?"
"Yes, but we can't just knock on the door and ask her."
"Of course we can! What do you say, Micum?
An urgent message carried by a servant of the Orлska House, one which must be delivered into Lord
Teukros' hands at all costs this very night?"
Micum grinned wolfishly. "That should do the trick."
Going to his desk, Nysander quickly penned a cordial dinner invitation for the following evening.
"What happens when he shows up for dinner?" asked Alec, peering over the wizard's shoulder.
Nysander chuckled darkly. "Assuming that he does, I shall be afforded an opportunity to give closer attention to this enterprising young spy." Sealing the missive with an impressive array of ribbons and wax seals, Nysander sent Wethis off to deliver it.
Seregil arrived soon after. He was smeared with mud, and sported torn breeches and a ragged scrape across the back of one hand.
"Illior's Eyes, Seregil, what have you been doing with poor Thero's body?" asked Nysander, handing him a clean robe.
"You'd think he could at least climb a garden wall!" Seregil said in disgust, shucking the filthy breeches off to show them an angry bruise on one of Thero's pale, hairy knees. "Never mind that, though. Micum, Alec, you'll never guess where our little serving maid led me! Straight to the house of the Viceregent."
He paused. "What? What is it? Neither of you look very surprised."
"That's because our man led us to Teukros' villa,"
Micum informed him. "Alec overheard him and his uncle having quite an argument."
"The man we followed tonight was Teukros' servant, by the name of Marsin. He brought the forged documents to Teukros," said Alec. "Then Teukros took off on horseback to deliver them, but we don't know where. Nysander's sent Wethis off to find out."
"I hope he does," said Seregil. "That brat Teukros certainly can't be at the bottom of anything like this! Incidentally, Barien came home after you saw him. I hung around to make certain the girl wasn't coming out again and saw him arrive. Anyway, a few minutes later a messenger goes across to the Queen's Park gate and tells the guards there he has a message for the Princess Royal. This same messenger is out again a few minutes later with someone wrapped up in a dark cloak and hood. I couldn't see her face, but it was Phoria; I know that stiff-legged stride of hers. I went over the wall to see what was up-that's when I fell-but I couldn't get a look at them."
He was interrupted by Wethis, who'd returned from his errand.
"Lord Teukros wasn't home to receive the message," the young servant reported. "Lady Althia says he's gone out to Lady Kassarie's estate and isn't expected home until tomorrow afternoon. Shall I ride out?"
"That is not necessary, Wethis, thank you. I shall not be needing you again tonight."
Micum raised a skeptical eyebrow as Wethis went out. "Kassarie? What would she want with a strutting cowbird like Teukros?"
"They have some common shipping interests, I believe," said Nysander.
"How interesting if Kassarie was mixed up in all this," Seregil speculated, looking pensive. "She's rich, powerful, and fairly influential among the more conservative nobles. To my knowledge she's not part of the Queen's inner circle, but—"
"Who's Kassarie?" asked Alec.
Seregil steepled his fingers before him in a manner that generally presaged one of his encyclopedic recitations. "Lady Kassarie a Moirian is the head of another of Skala's oldest families. Like Barien, she can trace her lineage back to the Hierophantic migration. And, I should add, without a drop of foreign blood sullying her august veins. Her ancestors made their fortunes in stonework at Ero, and prospered again providing Queen Tamir with stone and masons to build her new capital. Her estate lies up in the mountains about ten miles or so southeast of the city."
Nysander rose to pace the small room. "Be that as it may, I find it inconceivable that Barien should be involved with such a plan. Illior's Eyes, I have known that man for fifty years! And Phoria? That makes no sense whatsoever."
"I can't imagine what she and the Lerans would have to gain from each other," Micum concurred. "In their eyes, her blood is as tainted as her mother's."
"She wouldn't be the first noble to be duped into a betrayal of some sort without realizing it," warned Seregil. "And if her dear close friend Lord Barien was in with the Lerans, he'd be just the man to do it."
"But why would he betray her?" snorted Nysander.
"Who knows? Alec and I could probably slip in and—"
"Absolutely not!" Nysander paused, rubbing his eyes. "I agree, dear boy, that we must examine this matter closely, but you must leave Barien and the Princess Royal to me. For the time being, you three are to confine your investigation to Teukros and Kassarie. It is not yet midnight; could you begin tonight?"
"Oh, I suppose we could drag ourselves out again, if we have to," Seregil drawled, exchanging a wink with the others.
"Excellent. I shall arrange a pass and see that your horses are saddled. Take whatever else you need from here. You must excuse me now, for I have work of my own to begin. Illior's Luck to you all!"
Alec let out a sigh of relief. "At least I don't have to go back to Wheel Street tonight. Runcer treats me like the master of the house, and I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do."
"I know how you feel," said Seregil, stretching restlessly. "I'll go mad myself if I have to be cooped up in here much longer."
Watching his friend scratch irritably at Thero's bearded cheek, Alec wasn't certain if "in here" meant Nysander's tower or the assistant wizard's body.
31 Kassarie