Emiel turned away slightly, and Seregil mistook the move for a refusal. An instant later, he found himself flat on his back with blood in his mouth. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and the entire left side of his head had gone numb where Emiel's fist had caught him.
Steb and the others were nearly on Emiel by the time Seregil had gathered his wits. "No! S'all right. Go 'way," he managed, staggering to his feet. The look the corporal gave him warned that he'd be explaining himself to Beka later. Or worse yet, to Alec, who'd probably offer to even up the two sides of his head for him. No time to worry about that now.
Emiel's arrogant sneer was firmly in place again. "So ask your question, Exile. Ask as many as you like. The price is the same for each."
"Fair enough," Seregil replied, feeling with his tongue for loose
teeth. "I know about the secret meeting Ulan i Sathil held a few nights back, and what he told you there. I know that you don't share your uncle's sympathy for Skala. How did he react when you told him what you'd learned?"
Emiel let out a derisive snort, then lashed out again, backhanding Seregil hard enough to make him stagger. "You're wasting that handsome face of yours on that? He was shocked, of course, and dismayed. Klia a Idrilain has great atui. So did her mother. This new queen of yours, though?" He shook his head. "Even my uncle wonders if we should wait another generation before lifting the Edict. So do many of the other khirnari."
"You're generous with your answers," Seregil muttered, almost managing a crooked grin.
"Ask another."
Seregil took a breath and braced his feet, determined not to be caught off guard this time. "All right—"
But Emiel surprised him again, going for his belly instead of his face. Seregil doubled over, gasping for air. When he could breath again, he asked, "Did you know of Lord Torsin's private chats with Ulan i Sathil?"
"The Viresse? No."
Seregil leaned back against the wall, one hand pressed to his belly. His ears were ringing and his head hurt, but he didn't miss how that last question had shaken his opponent.
He considered pressing further on the Torsin angle but decided against it, not wanting to give too much away in case Emiel was telling the truth about not knowing. Instead, he let out a hollow chuckle. "So you think my face handsome, do you?"
Emiel took a menacing step toward him. "Is that another question, Exile?"
Seregil side-stepped hastily. "I withdraw it."
"Then I'll answer you for free." Grinning, Emiel raised his voice loud enough for the others to hear. "You were always a handsome little slut, Exile, more handsome even than the Chyptaulos traitor you played the whore for that summer."
The words froze Seregil where he stood.
"You don't remember it, but I was there, too. I remember you and Ilar i Sontir—that was his name, wasn't it? The man you killed my kinsman for? Too bad it wasn't just your ass Ilar was after, eh, guest killer? Perhaps we'd all have been friends. He could have passed you around. Did you like it rough back then, too?"
The words hit harder than any blow. Shame welled like bile in
Seregil's throat. How many of the Urgazhi in earshot had understood? Emiel's scornful gaze seemed to scorch his skin as Seregil retrieved the sword and headed for the door.
"I don't speak much 'faie, my lord, but I didn't like the sound of that," Steb growled as Seregil handed him back his weapon.
Emiel i Moranthi has just confessed. He tried to murder Klia. Kill him. That's all it would have taken.
Locking the words away behind a bloodied smile, Seregil shook his head. "See that no harm comes to our guest, riders. Not so much as a harsh word."
As he'd feared, news traveled fast among the Urgazhi. Alec was waiting for him just outside.
"Now what have you done?" he demanded, turning Seregil's face toward the watch fire to inspect the latest damage.
Seregil pulled away and continued on into the house. "Don't worry, it was my own doing."
"That's what I'm worried about."
"It wasn't like last time. I goaded him to see what he'd say. It was atui that made him swing at me."
"So it's honorable for him to hit you?"
"Absolutely. While he was at it, however, he let slip a few valuable bits of insight." He stopped just short of the great hall and lowered his voice. "As we'd feared, Ulan has done us a great deal of harm. Phoria's honor is in question, and some of those who supported us while Idrilain lived are wavering. But from what Emiel said just now, Torsin's secret meetings with Ulan aren't common knowledge." He fingered a tender spot next to his eye, hoping it wasn't going to swell. "Maybe we can use that to cast doubt back on Viresse. If we do, and prove that Klia was poisoned, perhaps we can sway some clans back to our side. I have to talk to Adzriel."
"She's in the hall."
Seregil clapped him on the shoulder. "See what you can find back in the hills. We need to know what Haman's role in all this is."
"It's going to take some doing," Alec admitted. "If they threw away something during the ride, chances are we'll never find it."
"We have to try. Otherwise, we can just stick our heads up our backsides and let it all fall to pieces."
Adzriel was talking with Rhylin and Mercalle beside the hall hearth. Drawing her into the mourning chamber, Seregil and Alec outlined the evening's findings.
"You can't believe the Haman are innocent?" she asked, searching Seregil's face.
"I'm not ready to say that yet, but something isn't right. I think Emiel is capable of it, but if he was going to go to the extreme of murder to get his way, wouldn't his uncle be a more logical target?"
"What about Nazien?" asked Alec. "He could have played us all for fools."
Seregil shrugged. "That seems even less likely. As much as I hate to admit it, he strikes me as an honorable man."
Adzriel touched Seregil's bruised cheek, frowning. "What will you do now?"
"Keep searching. Am I correct in guessing that anyone who falls under reasonable suspicion can be excluded from the vote?"
"Yes, the Haman must prove themselves innocent, or you must prove them guilty within a moon's span."
"We don't have that long," said Alec.
"Perhaps not," Adzriel replied. "Please, Alec, I'd like a moment alone with Seregil before he goes."
Alec cast a worried look at Seregil, then bowed. "Of course, my lady."
Adzriel gave him a wink. "Don't worry, I'll send him back to you soon, tali."
She watched Alec fondly out of sight, then turned and touched a finger to Seregil's swollen lip.
"You must stop this," she said softly. "It's wrong to seek this out from them."
"What do you mean?" he asked, folding his arms.
"You know exactly what I mean! Do you think Mydri kept the last occurrence from me? What is it you expect from such behavior? Justice? Atonement?"
"It wasn't like that this time," Seregil countered. "Sometimes you have to fool your enemy into doing what you want them to do. By letting Emiel think—"
"And what will everyone else think when they look at you tomorrow?" she demanded angrily. "For once in your life, listen to good counsel. Hear me, if not as your elder, then as the khirnari of the clan I pray you will one day rejoin. To allow a Haman to lay hands on you dishonors the princess you serve and the clan you sprang from. It dishonors Alec. Have you considered that?"
"That was pointed out to me, actually. But tonight—"
"Tonight you let a Haman put his hands on you again, as if it were his right."
Seregil knew it had been different tonight. He knew that whatever the cost, it had been worth the information he'd gotten. Any Rhiminee footpad or noble intriguer would have applauded him for it. At the same time, he knew with equal certainty that there was no way his sister would ever understand.
"Forgive me, talia. Bringing pain and dishonor to those I love best seems to be a particular talent of mine."
She cupped his chin. "Self-pity is a weakness you cannot a
fford to indulge. You know my hopes for you, tali. I want my brother back. I want you to be Aurenfaie again."
Tears stung his eyes as he pulled her close. I want that, too, more than you know. I just have my own ideas on achieving the impossible.
Alec paced slowly around the hall. He had the place to himself for the moment, the first time since Klia's mysterious collapse that he'd had a quiet moment to think. When he tried to make sense of the day, however, he was overwhelmed by the confusion of events. Klia's illness and Torsin's untimely death. Bad enough that they might be returning to Skala empty-handed and in the middle of a lost war. He'd stood by and allowed Klia to be poisoned right under his nose. Now Seregil was acting like a madman. Perhaps they'd both been too long away from Rhiminee, after all.
Seregil came out of the mourning room looking subdued.
"Well?"
"Go back up to that clearing at first light. Find whatever you can."
Alec opened his mouth to reply but succumbed to a jaw-creaking yawn instead.
"Get some sleep," Seregil advised. "There's nothing else you can do tonight, and tomorrow is shaping up to be a very long day."
"Are you coming up?"
"Maybe later."
Alec watched Seregil cross the darkened hall toward the bath chamber. "I still think Emiel did something to her."
Seregil paused but didn't look back. "Find me some proof, tali," he rasped. "Find me proof."
32
Snakes and Traitors
Seregil woke groggily to the sounds of an argument. He'd been dreaming of the Cockerel Inn again, but this time he'd been sitting on the roof.
Stiff and disoriented, he sat up and looked around the dim hall to get his bearings. He'd stayed with Klia until Mydri had chased him off, then made a makeshift bed out of two chairs out here. He hadn't expected to sleep, yet here he was with a stiff neck and one leg numb to the hip. The night lamp was guttering, and faint light was showing at the windows.
The argument in question was being carried on in Skalan outside the front door. Limping over, he looked out to find Nyal facing several Urgazhi sentries. Corporal Nikides and Tare were resolutely blocking the door. A few steps below, the Ra'basi interpreter looked tired and apologetic, but determined.
"It's Captain Beka's orders," Nikides was saying. "No Aurenfaie except Bokthersans are to be let in. When she comes back—"
"But the rhui'auros said Seregil sent for me!"Nyal insisted.
"Which rhui'auros?" Seregil demanded, sticking his head out.
"Elesarit."
It wasn't the name Seregil was expecting,
but he played along. "Of course. It's all right, Corporal. I'll take charge of him."
As soon as the door had swung shut behind them, he grasped the Ra'basi by the arm and pulled him to a halt.
"What did this rhui'auros say, exactly?"
Nyal shot him a surprised look. "Only that you required my services."
"And that I'd sent for you?"
"Well, no, now that I think of it. I just assumed—"
"We'll sort that out later. Where have you been? "
"Ra'basi tupa. With all the confusion here, I thought it best to stay out of the way.' I left word for Beka with Sergeant Mercalle, in case I was needed."
"She's still out keeping an eye on the Haman."
"Of course. Is Klia—?"
"As far as I know. Let's go see."
They met Saaban i Irais coming out of the bath chamber. He was dressed for riding, and looked as if he hadn't slept much, either.
"A bad night," he told them. "Alec is with her now. My riders and I can leave as soon as he's finished."
The dhima lay like an upended turtle against the far wall. Klia had been moved next to the central bathing pool, and wet cloths were draped across her forehead and wrists. Mydri and Adzriel sat next to her, each grasping one of her hands. Alec and Thero stood over them, hollowed-eyed and solemn.
"Sweating only made her breathing worse," Mydri explained worriedly. "I've purged her, given her herbs, sang the six songs of purification; nothing seems to help."
"By the Light!" Nyal went down on one knee beside Klia and inspected her hands and feet. The discoloration was darker and had spread up her limbs.
"Has she opened her eyes at all, or moved?" asked Nyal.
"Not for hours."
"Then I think you must be wrong about when she was poisoned."
Seregil gave the Ra'basi a sharp look. "What do you know about it?"
Nyal shook his head Wonderingly. "I don't know how it could be, but this has all the signs of an apaki'nhag bite."
"A what?" asked Mydri.
"It's a snake," said Nyal.
"I thought there weren't any snakes in Aurenen!" Alec exclaimed.
"Not on the land. Apaki'nhags are sea snakes. There are a number of different types."
"Apaki'nhag. 'Gentle assassin?' " Seregil translated.
Nyal nodded. "So called because its bite is painless, and because the effects of the venom don't appear for hours in most cases, sometimes not even for days. Shellfish divers often grab them by mistake among the weeds, not realizing they've been bitten until they fall ill later. I've seen it often enough among sailors and fishermen to know the signs. It's good you removed that." He gestured toward the dhima. "Sweating only drives the poison deeper into the body."
"A water snake? She was wet when I found her," Alec told him. "Emiel said she'd stopped to drink—"
"No, Alec. Apaki'nhag are saltwater creatures."
"Where are they found?" asked Seregil.
"Along the eastern coast. I've never heard of any south of Ra'basi."
"Ra'basi, Gedre, Viresse, Golinil," Seregil said, ticking likely places off on the fingers of one hand. "And let's not forget Plenimar."
"Plenimar?" said Alec.
"I'm not ready to rule them out just yet. Whether or not they did the actual poisoning, they've raised it to an art and wouldn't be above selling both the poison and the means of best using it. They have as much reason as anyone for wanting Klia to fail."
"If you're right, then she may not have been poisoned by something she ate but by something she touched," said Thero, concentrating on more immediate issues.
"Something that touched her, more likely," Seregil corrected, examining Klia's cold hands. "It's the mark of a two-legged serpent we're looking for. You say the victim doesn't feel the bite, Nyal?"
"That's right. The snake's teeth are quite small, and the venom deadens feeling. Ra'basi healers sometimes use a very dilute form of it in salves."
"A needle or small blade concealed in a ring is a favorite toy among Plenimaran assassins." Seregil pushed the sleeves of Klia's gown back to inspect her arms.
"This venom, Nyal, would it affect someone who's already ill more quickly? " Thero asked.
"Yes, with the old or infirm, it's nearly always fatal within—"
"Torsin!" Seregil exclaimed, looking up at the wizard. "Alec, keep looking for marks."
He and Thero took the stairs two at a time to the envoy's chamber. Cold lamps sparked to life at the wizard's command.
The dead man's face had lost its leaden hue, darkening already to the mottled greenish pall of dissolution. The rigor had passed and someone had straightened the limbs, bound up the slack jaw and eyes, and blanketed the corpse with fragrant herbs. Neither these nor the resinous smoke from the incense pot could mask the heavy stench. A round, salt-glazed urn with a cover of fitted leather had been left on the clothes chest, ready to receive the dead man's ashes for the journey home.
"A not-so-subtle hint that my people don't let their dead linger," Seregil noted, pointing at the jar. "We're lucky he hasn't already been carted out to a pyre somewhere."
"I'm not sure 'lucky' is the word I'd have chosen," Thero replied, recoiling at the smell.
"Damn this warm weather, eh?" Seregil muttered, wrinkling his nose. "Let's get it over with."
He spread the fingers of Torsin's right hand and inspe
cted them. He heard Thero suck air and hold it as he pried open the clenched left fist. Perhaps he wasn't as hardened to all this as Seregil had supposed.
An excited gasp quickly followed, however. "Look at this!" Thero exclaimed, pulling a tangled clump of fine threads free of the wrinkled palm.
Seregil took it and smoothed the strands out on his palm: red and blue silk, knotted into a small tassel identical to the one Alec had found on the envoy's hearth two weeks earlier. "It's from a sen'gai. See here? There's a bit of cloth still attached above the knot."
"A sen'gai? But those are the colors of Viresse!"
"So they are." Seregil returned to his inspection of Torsin's other hand with a sardonic grin. It was still bloated from lying in the water, but with the aid of a lamp he finally located a small puncture wound on the fleshy part of the palm just below the base of the thumb. He pressed the skin, and a globule of dark blood oozed out.
Thero drew a silver knife from his belt and gently scraped it up.
"Think there are any apaki'nhags slithering about in the Vhadasoori?" asked Seregil.
"I very much doubt it. That doesn't look like snakebite."
"More like a needle or thorn puncture. Nyal must be right about the numbing effect of the poison. This went deep."
"So the poisoner followed him to the Vhadasoori when he left
Ulan's house," Thero speculated. "Judging by this, they straggled. Torsin grasped at his attacker, pulling that bit of fringe from his sen'gai in his death throes."
They were interrupted by Alec's noisy entrance. "We found it!" he announced triumphantly. "There's a tiny mark on her left hand, between the first and second fingers."
"But I looked there," Seregil exclaimed. "How did you find it?"
Alec touched the dragon bite on his ear. "This gave me the idea. When we couldn't find anything, I tried rubbing lissik on her skin to bring out any breaks and there it was. It's marked for good now. The flesh is beginning to go white around it, too. Nyal says that's a sure sign."
"Well, we just found something similar on Torsin. And this." Seregil passed Alec the tassel. "Thero's speculated that Torsin's murderer followed him from the banquet, and that Torsin grappled with him and tore this from his head cloth. What do you think?"