Rillor reached inside his dress jacket and drew out the envelope from Sarkia. "My lady," he said, bowing slightly, "I have the honor of giving you this envelope from the Dynast."
She accepted it. "Thank you, Captain," she said, but did not open it. Her glance included all three Guardsmen. "I trust you'll stay for dinner."
Cyncaidh wished she hadn't included Rillor; he'd disliked the man on sight. But it was, he told himself, the proper and necessary thing to do.
They went to the ground-floor parlor together, where Varia put the envelope on the mantle. Then they sat talking of trivialities. Not wishing to draw needless attention, Rillor hardly participated. Some of these people-Varia surely-would see auras in dangerous detail, if she focused on them. He wished she'd open the envelope. It would engage their attentions enough to make his job easier. Meanwhile he cased the room, careful not to be obvious. There were handsome, cut-glass lamps scattered about. One, with a stem for carrying, stood on a lamp table by the door. That one, he thought. It's the one they'll light first.
A servant brought in a tray with glasses and a wine bottle, and placed it on a small buffet not far from the door. Ah, thought Rillor, there's my chance.
And with that realized he'd overlooked a crucial step. He could hardly take an envelope from his jacket, open it, and pour poison into their wine glasses in front of everyone. His failure shook him.
"Thank you, Jahns," Varia said to the servant, and glanced around. "It's a light appetizer wine, dry and semisweet. You may wish to try it."
With the others, Rillor went to the buffet, poured himself a drink, and returned with it to his chair. Soon afterward Talrie came in. Dinner, he said, would be served in fifteen minutes. Cyncaidh suggested that anyone in need use one of the four water closets off the hall.
As shocked as he'd been minutes earlier, Rillor was resilient. He excused himself at once, and locked himself into one of the water closets, where he poured some of the food poison into a palm, then transferred it into his right-hand pants pocket. Next he put some of the other into his left-hand pocket. After that he washed possible traces of the powder from his hands, urinated, and left.
Back in the parlor, he found himself alone. Quickly he took some powder from his right-hand pocket and sprinkled a pinch in the glass where Macurdy had sat, then another in the glass where Varia had sat. He was tight, jumpy, sure that if any of them looked at him now, really looked, they'd know. After brushing off his hands, he took his own glass and started back toward the buffet. Dohns came in but paid no attention. Rillor fished a pinch of powder from his left-hand pocket and paused by the lamp table before going to the tray and topping off his wine glass.
One by one, all the others returned except Varia. When Talrie announced that dinner was served, Macurdy had not sipped his poisoned wine. As they left, Rillor saw Talrie, with the tray in one hand, picking up the glasses.
The dinner was simple, not lavish as Rillor had expected, but he was impressed with the quality. It included a dinner wine, and a brandy custard for dessert. Meanwhile Cyncaidh had favored Rillor with more than one meaningful glance, as if inviting him to leave.
Afterward they returned to the parlor. The previous glasses and wine bottle were gone, replaced on the buffet by an after-dinner wine and clean glasses. Meanwhile the sun was low enough that the room had begun to dim.
It seemed to Rillor he had only one more chance. He got to his feet. "Excuse me, my lord, my lady. But sometimes rich food troubles my stomach. May I try just a swallow of that wine? Then I really must return to the embassy and write my report."
"Of course," Cyncaidh said. "We quite understand. If the message you brought requires a reply, we'll send for you. Meanwhile we'd appreciate your allowing these two young men to spend the night, if they'd care to."
"Thank you, my lord. They're free to if they wish." The twins accepted the invitation, definitely but warily.
Not daring to look back, Rillor walked to the buffet while the others conversed, dipping into his right-hand pocket as he went. He moved casually enough, but anxiety clutched his gut. If Varia, and perhaps Cyncaidh or even Macurdy focused on his aura, surely they'd know something was wrong, and not just with his stomach.
As before, the glasses were on a tray. The same move that picked up the bottle dropped powder into every glass but one. He poured a splash of wine in it, drank, then left quietly. In the hall, his knees nearly buckled with relief.
He fidgeted in the waiting room while a servant got his horse. The stableboy had to saddle it, of course, and Rillor expected at any moment to hear a commotion upstairs. If only one of them died, he hoped it was Macurdy. The man's anger had frozen his blood, and he feared being hunted by him.
It seemed to him his horse would never arrive. Actually he'd waited barely five minutes before Talrie handed him his cap and jacket, and wished him good night.
Once in the saddle, Rillor fought the impulse to gallop away. There were traffic laws in Duinarog, and it could be fatal, on that evening, to be detained by the police.
No one else went to the wine tray. They were all more or less sated from supper, and the twins were ill at ease, not knowing the protocol there. Varia began to question them, first about the Cloister, then about themselves. Their answers were mostly short, and she decided they weren't ready to open up.
"Well," she said, "I should see what Captain Rillor's envelope holds." She took it from the mantle, opened it, and silently scanned the enclosure. The handwriting was clear and firm, definitely not Sarkia's, but she might well have dictated it. When Varia had finished, she looked at the others.
"The dynast," she said, "would like me to return. With Marshal Macurdy. I to serve as dynast, he as my deputy, and commander of the Sisterhood's military forces. This would reunite us with our sons-mine and Curtis's." Varia looked at her small audience. "She totally ignores my present marriage, of course," she added drily, "as she did my first one, years ago."
Her eyes moved to Cyncaidh, then to the twins, finally settling on Macurdy. "I have no doubt Sarkia meant well by this, but she has given me a cruel choice: my sons-or my sons. But I cannot abandon my husband. Or my children by him, whom I nursed and cuddled, cleaned up, fed, taught, scolded, and on occasion disciplined."
Her focus turned to the twins. "Imperial law allows exiles from foreign lands to apply for residence here. If you wish to stay, we welcome you abundantly."
She paused, looking at Cyncaidh. "Raien?" she said.
He nodded and stood, his eyes too on the twins. "If you wish, you can live with us," he said, "as part of our family. Normally, at the beginning of Seven-Month we go to Aaerodh Manor, our home on the Northern Sea. Our… other sons left for there when the spring lectures ended here at the university. At Aaerodh you can begin learning our ways, and a profession. Perhaps train as officers in my own ducal cohort, with the option of transfer to the emperor's army, where there are greater opportunities for advancement. With the training you've already had, it should go quickly and well for you."
He paused. The twins stared soberly, saying nothing. "Or perhaps you'd rather not," he went on. "We may seem too foreign to you. At any rate you will doubtless want to discuss it between yourselves. And perhaps with your parents."
He turned to Macurdy. "Curtis," he said, "I'm afraid we've rather left you out of this. No slight was intended. If you…"