“Oh, my lords!” Atre gasped, clinging to Seregil’s hand with both of his, which were sticky with blood. “How did you know?”
“Never mind that. What in Bilairy’s name happened to you?”
“It was a girl. She said she was hurt, and when I tried to help her—look what she did!”
“It’s not as bad as all that,” the drysian scoffed as he began to bandage the wound. “Hardly more than a scratch!”
“And took your purse, I suppose,” said Alec. It was a common ploy among the girl cutpurses. “What are you doing alone in a place like this?”
“Oh, you know—” Atre was too pale to blush but he looked rather ashamed of himself.
Seregil gave him a knowing look.
“Got tired of the pampered nobles and came back here, looking for a bit of rougher fun?” Brader growled as he strode into the room and stood over Atre. Apparently he’d gotten word, as well.
The actor looked away, saying nothing.
“This is no place for the likes of you,” the drysian scolded. “Stay up on your heights and find your fun there. I have better things to do than patch up you silly thrill seekers.”
“I will, Brother. By the Maker, I will!” Atre mumbled, then looked up imploringly at Seregil. “Please, my lord, don’t leave me here!”
“Of course not,” Seregil assured him, then turned to Alec. “Go ask the master of the house to hire us a carriage, will you?”
“No need,” said Brader. “Teibo is coming with the cart.”
The drysian finished with the bandage and straightened up. “There, that should hold your guts in well enough. See that you keep the wound clean and it should be healed in a week or so, if a bit sore.”
“I have to be on stage tomorrow!”
“That’s why you have an understudy,” Brader said, handing the healer some silver.
The drysian nodded to them and took his leave.
“Oh, Calieus will be pleased!” the young actor groaned. He’d only recently taken on the young Skalan actor. “He hangs over me like a carrion crow, just waiting for something like this to happen.”
Seregil chuckled. “It’s his job, isn’t it? And I really don’t think you can blame this on your understudy.” He washed his hands with the water left in the pitcher the healer had used and stood up. “Honestly, if you’d wanted to come someplace like this, you should have asked us. We’d have come with you, and kept you out of trouble like this.”
“Very kind of you, my lord, but I think my friend here should take the healer’s advice,” Brader said.
Just then they heard the clatter of a cart arriving. Brader lifted Atre in his arms as if he weighed no more than a child and carried him out. Old Zell had come with the boy and clucked his tongue as Brader placed the wounded man on some folded blankets in the back of the cart.
“Really, I think a carriage would be more comfortable,” said Seregil. “I’ll happily pay.”
“No need, my lord,” Brader said gruffly. “With respect, we take care of our own.” He climbed in beside Atre and Teibo snapped the reins over the glossy white mare’s back and set off.
“That was a bit rude!” Alec muttered. “We might just as well have stayed at the gambling house.”
“Strange sort of place for anyone who loves luxury as much as our actor friend to turn up, don’t you think?” asked Seregil.
“You think he was lying about why he was down here?”
“Perhaps not, but does Atre strike you as the sort of man who would stop to help a street urchin on a dark street?”
“Not really.”
Seregil gazed thoughtfully after the cart.
“So long as we’re down here, I’d like to look in at that temple and see if that boy is still there,” said Alec, glad to see that their horses hadn’t been stolen while they were inside.
“At this hour?”
“A temple doesn’t close. At least not a Dalnan one. You can go home if you want. I won’t be long.”
Seregil swung up into the saddle and gathered Cynril’s reins. “Then I might as well tag along.”
They hadn’t gone far when Alec said softly, “Did you enjoy your performance back there at the Three Dragons?”
“My amazing winning streak, you mean?” Seregil said with a wink.
“No.”
“Ah, the stripping naked in front of a hundred or so noblemen and women part of the evening. ‘Enjoy’ isn’t the word I’d use, but it was satisfyingly useful.”
“Useful!”
“Talí, before I met you, Lord Seregil was known for things like that. Well, not usually in such a public place, perhaps—”
“Perhaps?” Alec raised a skeptical eyebrow at that.
“At parties, mostly.”
“So you did that a lot?”
“Now and then, just to keep up my reputation. Mostly it was things like getting other young nobles into trouble stealing things like public statues or bluecoats’ horses while we were drunk, slumming in borrowed clothes, or daring each other to jump off Widow’s Cliff into the sea. You should try that. Very invigorating—if you live.”
That won him a smile and a soft laugh. “And carrying on with actors, I suppose.”
“Oh, yes. And actresses.”
“Am I bad for your reputation, now that we’re spending so much time back in the city?”
Seregil laughed. “I’d say we dispelled any rumors of that tonight, wouldn’t you? I was lucky, though.”
“You did win a lot of money.”
“Yes, but I was thinking more of Koris’s search of my person.”
Alec laughed. “What was so lucky about that? He had you standing naked on a chair.”
Seregil winked at him as they passed through the glow of a street lantern. “Yes, but his search stopped short of the most obvious hiding place.”
“The most—?” Alec gave him a questioning look, then realization dawned and it was replaced by one of shock. “Bilairy’s balls, Seregil!”
“Close.” Seregil grinned. He loved still being able to make Alec blush.
Image Gallery
The most difficult part of this book was deciding which images would go on the pages. The tremendous outpouring of fan art and the pure, overwhelming support of the fans for Lynn was amazing. This collection of short stories was an effort of love and affection from Lynn to her fans. Because of spacing issues, not all of the artwork was able to be placed in the stories they were created for still we felt it was only right that these pieces of artwork should be featured as well. The effort given by these artists—both amateur and professional—cannot be measured. Gratitude seems so inadequate as a tribute to their work.
I have never worked with someone as gracious and as caring for her fans as Lynn. I wish I could fully express to you the affection she has for her readers. Thank you for your contributions and most of all, thank you for making this book possible.
Reece Notley
Three Crow Press
Postscript: Lynn is probably one of the sweetest, coolest people in California if not the world. It was a fantastic experience to work with her and even more of a blast to share a meal or two with her.
Thank you Lynn for letting me frolic in your playground.
Contributing Artists
Adriane Zonker
Angela Sopo
Anna Davidson
Anna Sommerer
Bernadette Joseco
Bettina Körner
Capucine
Casey Beck
Doug Flewelling
DragonLadyC
Franzsika Riedel
Glynnis Koike
Karena Kliefoth
Karl Engracia
Kimberly White
Tata
Kracken
Kristen Evans
Kristin McKenna
Laurel Graham
Linda Stelinski
Lindsay Mathers
Linnea Jefferson
MBP
Melissa Pritchard
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Olivia Faliph
Ovsanna
Rabby
Sara Lilja
Sarah Borchart
Stela Topolcic
Tove Brandberg
About the Author
Lynn Flewelling is best known for her internationally acclaimed Nightrunner Series and the Tamír Triad. Her first novel, Luck in the Shadows, was a finalist for the Compton Crook Award and made the list for Locus’ 1996 Best First Novels. Since then her books have been nominated several times for the Spectrum Award and others. Her two series are published in over a dozen languages, and in audio and e-book formats. She currently lives in Redlands, California with Douglas, her husband and main muse.
Lynn’s website can be found at:
http://www.sff.net/people/lynn.flewelling/
Her blog (which she updates regularly) can be found at:
http://otterdance.livejournal.com/
About the Cover Artist
As a freelance graphic artist and illustrator, Anne works for a number of print and electronic publishers along with private clients around the world. She spends her days working on projects and doodling in sketchbooks, but can sometimes be found snatching a few moments here and there for her other passions, which include writing, reading, and searching for the world's most perfect cup of hot tea.
Lynn Flewelling, Glimpses: A Collection of Nightrunner Short Stories
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