Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (57 page)

Too easy,
Seregil thought again, rifling his way once more through the bedchamber and sitting room. It was a bit distracting, doing this in broad daylight with an audience that included the owner of the room. It felt indecent, really, like having someone watch you take a crap. The day had turned warm, and sweat trickled down his back and sides as he worked.

Again, he found nothing. "Are you certain about this?" he muttered, coming back to Thero, who was standing by the fish pool.

Thero nodded. "It's unclear, I admit, but it's here."

Pondering what corners he might have missed, Seregil stared down at the fragrant white water lilies floating on the pool's dark surface. Fish darted below the round, green leaves like half-glimpsed inspirations. A single dead fish floating in a far corner of the pool was the only jarring element; no doubt the usually fastidious khirnari had more pressing things on his mind since Klia's collapse than the care of his fish pool.

The others were watching his every move with varying degrees of interest or hostility. Doing his best to ignore them, Seregil looked around the courtyard again. If Thero said there was something here, then something was here. It was just a matter of looking in the right place.

Or asking the right questions.

The masses of white peonies and roses caught his eye; he didn't much relish the idea of uprooting them without good cause. Red

damsel flies darted around the blooms. One strayed to land on the lip of a lily pad. A fish flashed up and swallowed it.

"They are always hungry," Ulan murmured, lifting the cover from a bowl set into the rim of the pool. He scattered a handful of crumbs, and the calm water churned as more fish rose to snatch up the morsels.

The dead fish reclaimed Seregil's attention. It was a large one, longer than his hand, and its scales were still bright. That, and the fact that its hungry companions hadn't begun picking at it yet, suggested that it hadn't been dead long.

Curious, he walked around to where it floated and scooped it up for closer inspection. Its dark eyes were still clear. Yes, freshly dead.

"May I borrow a knife?" Seregil asked, careful to keep the rising excitement out of his voice.

This violated the terms of his return, but the Silmai elder himself handed Seregil a dagger.

He slit the belly with a single stroke and was rewarded with a glint of steel among the guts. With the tip of the dagger, he extracted a plain ring. Not so plain after all, though, he thought, discovering a tiny barb protruding from its outer rim.

The others crowded around, muttering excitedly. Seregil looked over their heads at Ulan i Sathil, who stood unmoved near the roses. His face betrayed no guilty blanch, no panicked admission.

I
wouldn't like to play cards against you,
Seregil thought with a certain grudging respect.

"A clever piece of work, this," he remarked, showing the others how the barb could be extended and retracted by means of a lever set inside the band. "The Plenimarans rather poetically call this a
kar'makti.
It means 'hummingbird's tongue.' With some, the barb is dipped in poison. Others have a reservoir inside the ring. We'd better handle it carefully until I figure out which sort it is. It could still be dangerous."

"But how could such an odd-looking ornament go unnoticed?" asked Adzriel.

"See these?" Seregil showed her several traces of gold on the ring's edges. "It was fitted inside a larger ring, which would in turn have a hole for the barb to fit out through."

"Can you produce this other ring?" the old Silmai asked Ulan.

"I cannot, because I own no such ring, nor have I ever," the Viresse replied. "Anyone could have dropped this thing here."

"You seem to know quite a lot about such devices, Exile," the Khatme khirnari observed, turning on Seregil.

"In Skala it was my business to know," Seregil replied, letting her make of that what she would. "Have you ever seen this object before, Ulan i Sathil?"

"Certainly not!" Ulan said, bridling at last. "I give my oath before Aura and the khi of my father. Violence may well have been done under my roof; I accept the dishonor of that. But it was not done by me."

Seregil made certain the barb was fully retracted before passing it to Thero. "Can you divine anything from this?"

The wizard pressed the ring between his palms and muttered a quick spell. "It will take a more concentrated effort."

"May I?" asked Adzriel. After a moment, however, she shook her head as well and gave it back to Thero.

"Either it was too long inside the fish or someone has purposefully masked it," he said. "Given the difficulty I had finding it in the first place, I'd guess the latter."

They'd have done better to retract the barb,
thought Seregil. "You sense nothing else in the house?"

"No. There's little more to be learned here."

"Except that our poisoner was a man," Seregil said, fitting the ring easily onto his forefinger. "And that he had a knowledge of eastern sea snakes and Plenimaran poisoning tricks."

"All of which points to a Viresse, I suppose?" said Elos i Orian, standing protectively by Ulan.

"Not conclusively," Seregil replied. He turned to go, then paused, as if he'd just remembered something. "There was one other thing I meant to ask about, Khirnari." He took the Viresse tassel from his pouch and held it up for the others to see. "This was found in Lord Torsin's hand after he died. Was someone of your clan in the habit of sending these to him to signal a secret assignation?"

The khirnari's eyes narrowed slightly, and Seregil sensed he'd at last managed to take the man by surprise. "I did so," Ulan admitted. "But not that night. Why would I, when the man was in my own house?"

"Yet who else but a Viresse would have such a token to send?" asked the Silmai. "I fear Viresse must remain under interdiction, Ulan. Until we have cleared this matter up to the satisfaction of the Skalans, you may not vote with the Iia'sidra."

Ulan i Sathil bowed to the elder khirnari. "So it must be. I will do

all in my power to bring justice to the Skalans for the injuries they have suffered beneath my roof."

"What was the reason for your secret meetings with Torsin?" asked Seregil.

"That has nothing to do with this!" Ulan objected.

That definitely struck a nerve.

Thero stepped in smoothly. "For the time being, Khirnari, I speak for Princess Klia and must know of any dealings between the two of you, no matter what they relate to."

Ulan looked to the Silmai khirnari, but found no help there. "Very well, but I must insist we speak privately."

Ulan had clearly intended to exclude Seregil, but Thero motioned for him to follow, as if he could not imagine being denied his adviser.

Smothering a grin of admiration, Seregil squared his shoulders and followed the two men into Ulan i Sathil's inner chamber. Once alone with the khirnari, however, his amusement quickly died.

"May I see the tassel?" Ulan asked. He maintained the semblance of respect, but his eyes were cold as he examined the hank of silk. "This was certainly cut from a Viresse sen'gai, but not one of mine. As khirnari, mine have a thread of darker red woven in among the others. This one does not.

"As for the death of Torsin i Xandus, it is as great a loss to me as it is to you. He has been a great friend of mine for many years. He understood the workings of the Iia'sidra better than any Tirfaie I have known."

"And he was sympathetic to the plight of Viresse," Thero put in.

Seregil watched in amazement. Young as he was, Thero appeared to consider himself a match for this venerable intriguer. There was not the least show of hesitancy as he met the khirnari's appraising stare.

"What were you discussing with him, those times you met?" the wizard asked. "A separate deal of some sort, one that would protect the interests of your clan?"

Ulan gave a condescending nod. "But of course. We were working toward a compromise, one your Princess Klia was quite aware of: open trade through Gedre for the duration of the Skalan's war, but with the understanding that when the need was gone, control of shipping would return to Viresse. Many of my fellow khirnari have grave misgivings about Klia's original proposal, given the character of your new queen."

"And you made certain they knew of her flaws," Seregil said quietly.

Ulan inclined his head as if accepting a compliment. "Gedre is too remote, too unguarded, and too weak a clan to protect itself, should Phoria renege on her agreements. Who is to say that a woman who would betray her own land, her own mother, would not seek to possess the riches Aurenen can offer, once she has seen how to get at them?"

And what was your plan, before Phoria was queen?
Seregil wondered with grudging admiration. How many different scenarios had the man prepared for to protect his clan's interests? He'd held his secrets about Phoria in reserve, to be played like a winning hand of cards. What would he have done with them if Idrilain were still hale and hearty on the throne?

"It's Plenimar's capture of the northern trade routes that's put Skala in need," Thero was saying.

"I'm aware of that, as it was Skala's rather possessive control of that same route which cemented the bonds of trade between Plenimar and the eastern clans these past few centuries," Ulan replied. "Win or lose, Plenimar remains the more attractive suitor for Aurenen's affections."

"Despite the fact that they have been courting Zengati support against Aurenen in the event that the Iia'sidra votes in Skala's favor?" asked Seregil.

Ulan gave him a condescending look. "You haven't heard? The Zengati have troubles of their own just now. Tribal war has broken out again, as it does periodically among that excitable race."

"You're certain of this?" Thero gasped.

"My spies there are most reliable. I cannot give them credit by name, of course, but I suspect Seregil would recognize one or two of them."

"Ilar?" Seregil rasped as a bolt of sick apprehension tore through him. "He's alive?"

The khirnari smile was inscrutable. "I have had no communication with that man since his disappearance, but even if it were he, surely you of all people must admit that exiles may have their uses?"

Since his disappearance?
Why would the khirnari of Viresse know a young Chyptaulos at all, unless he had good reason to? Meeting Ulan's cool gaze, Seregil knew in his bones what the answer to that question would be. He knew with equal certainty that

Ulan would never reveal that truth unless it were in his own interest to do so.

"The timing of this tribal war was very fortunate," Thero observed. "It would have been disastrous for Aurenen if the Zengati and Plenimar forged a bond."

"Luck can be an expensive thing," Ulan replied with a meaningful look. "Yet who can put a price on the security of one's homeland? But that need not concern you, as it may work to your benefit one day."

"You believe Plenimar will win this time, don't you?" asked Seregil, controlling himself with an effort.

"Yes. Why sacrifice Aurenfaie lives, Aurenfaie magic, to a lost cause?"

"How could Torsin agree to such an arrangement?" Thero demanded angrily.

"He is a Tirfaie, measuring the future in his own short spans. The same can be said of Klia and her line, clever though they undoubtedly are." Ulan waved a dismissive hand at them. "The two of you are still too young to see how slowly the tides of history turn. It is not that I wish to see Skala suffer; I am determined that Viresse shall not. Daughter of Idrilain or not, Phoria will not prove a worthy ally."

"But the Overlord of Plenimar and his necromancers will?" Seregil exclaimed. "The name of Raghar Ashnazai is not unknown to you, Khirnari. I knew the man's kinsman, a necromancer."

"And you overcame him, as well as a dyrmagnos," Ulan returned indifferently. "If you were able to accomplish that with a handful of Tir, what should the Aurenfaie fear from them?"

"It was only one dyrmagnos, and a handful of necromancers, but it took the life of the great Nysander i Azusthra to defeat them," Thero said softly, and something in his voice made Seregil glance nervously at his friend. For an instant Seregil thought he saw the wizard's eyes flash gold. Probably a trick of the light. "Beware what you trade away for prosperity, Ulan i Sathil," Thero went on. "There are those with vision even longer than yours."

Ulan went to the door and opened it. "Torsin was my friend and I grieve his loss. There is nothing more to be said. As for what happened to Klia beneath my roof, it is a most grievous offense, but one she perhaps brought upon herself. She's sown discord in a city that has known only peace for time out of mind. Perhaps this is Aura's punishment."

Thero blanched at this but held his tongue.

Seregil felt less restraint. "The Lightbearer had nothing to do with this," he growled. "Mark my words, Khirnari, the truth of this will come out. I'll see to it."

"You?" Ulan made no effort to hide his contempt. "What do you know of truth?"

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