Traitor's Moon: The Nightrunner Series, Book 3

  “The timing of this tribal war was very fortunate,” Thero observed. “It would have been disastrous for Aurënen 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 Aurënfaie lives, Aurënfaie magic, to a lost cause?”

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

  “He is a Tírfaie, 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 Virésse 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 Tír, what should the Aurënfaie fear from them?”

  “It was only one dyrmagnos, and a handful of necromancers, but it took the life of the great Nysander í 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 í 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?”

  35

  ACCUSATIONS

  Alec saw Seregil waiting for him on the front steps when he and his search party returned.

  “Any luck?” he called.

  Alec swung down from the saddle and presented him with the Akhendi charm. “It’s Klia’s, all right. It must have come loose in the struggle.”

  “Illior’s Fingers!” Seregil exclaimed, examining the blackened carving.

  “Kheeta’s gone to fetch Rhaish,” Alec told him. “Säaban claims he should be able to use it to tell us who caused this. It was still white before the hunt. Care to lay any bets on who changed that?”

  Seregil took the poisoner’s ring from a pouch. “Not just yet, I think.”

  “Where did you find that?”

  “In the fish pond outside Ulan’s bedchamber. So far, Thero hasn’t been able to divine anything from it, though. He says it’s masked.”

  Alec cocked an eyebrow. “How hard is that to do?”

  “Hard enough to make me think that we’re dealing with someone powerful.”

  “Damn! Then this charm may be, too.”

  “It may be useful to learn that it is,” said Seregil, examining the bracelet again. “That would suggest that whoever masked one masked the other, as well. Chances are they’d have to be there to do so after Emiel had attacked her.”

  “So we find out who in the hunting party was also at the Virésse banquet?”

  Seregil shrugged. “If this turns out to be masked, then yes.”

  Kheeta arrived with the Akhendi khirnari, and Seregil ushered him into the sitting room off the main hall, where Alec and Thero were waiting.

  “You found something in the forest?” Rhaish asked.

  “This,” said Alec, giving him the blackened charm. “Can you tell us who did this?”

  The khirnari held it a moment. “Ah, yes, this is my wife’s work. It would be best if I took it to her. I’ll send you word of what she finds. She is not well enough today to go out.”

  “If you don’t mind, Khirnari, we’ll save you the trouble and come along now,” Seregil interrupted.

  “Very well,” Rhaish replied, clearly taken aback by such presumption. One did not demand access to the home of a khirnari.

  “Forgive my rudeness,” Seregil quickly added, hoping to smooth it over. “But time is of the essence, for Klia’s sake.”

  “Of course. I was not thinking. Akhendi will do all in its power to ensure her recovery.”

  “Thank you, Khirnari.” Motioning for Alec to accompany them, Seregil led the man out.

  Akhendi tupa was modest in comparison to the Virésse, and the faded appointments spoke of better days.

  They found Amali resting on a silken couch in one of the garden courts, picking listlessly at a dish of dried kindle berries while she watched several of her women play at dice.

  She brightened a bit at the sight of her husband. “Back so soon, talí? And with company for me!”

  “Forgive an unforgivable intrusion,” Seregil said gallantly. “I would not disturb you if it were not of the utmost urgency.”

  “Think nothing of it,” she replied, sitting up. “What brings you here?”

  Seregil showed her the bracelet. “My lady, your gift to Klia was well thought of. I believe it can lead us to her attacker.” “How wonderful!” she exclaimed, taking the soiled bracelet gingerly between two fingers. “But what’s happened to it?”

  “Klia lost it during the hunt,” Alec explained. “I found it when I went back this morning.”

  “I see.” Pressing the charm between her palms, she murmured a spell over it. A moment later she let out a gasp and slumped back against the cushions, face drained of color. “A Haman!” she said faintly. “I see his face, contorted with anger. I know this man: He is here in the city. The nephew of Nazien í Hari.”

  “Emiel í Moranthi?” asked Alec, shooting Seregil a victorious look.

  “Yes, that is his name,” Amali whispered. “Such anger and contempt. Such violence!”

  “Can you tell us anything more, my lady?” Seregil asked, leaning forward.

  “Enough!” Lips tight with anger, Rhaish tore the bracelet from her grasp as if it were a poisonous snake. “Talía, you are not well enough for this.” Turning to Seregil, he said sternly, “You see her condition. What more do you need?”

  “If she could tell us more of the nature of this attack, Khirnari, it would be of great value.”

  “Leave this with us for now, then. When she has recovered her strength, perhaps she can see more in it.”

  “I’d prefer to keep this with me,” Seregil told him. “When your lady is well I’ll bring it back.”

  “Very well.” Rhaish looked thoughtfully at the bracelet, then handed it back. “How odd, for so much to depend on such a simple object.”

  “In my experience, it is often the simplest things that yield the greatest insights,” Seregil replied.

  “Well?” Alec demanded as they walked home with Thero. “I told you he attacked her. There’s your proof!”

  “I suppose so,” Seregil mused absently.

  “You suppose so? By the Four, Seregil, she was working with her own magic.”

  Seregil lowered his voice to a whisper. “But why, Alec? Klia and Torsin were poisoned at Virésse tupa, of that I’m certain. If it was done by the Haman, then it was someone other than Emiel, because he wasn’t there.”

  “If the Haman are behind it, then it was planned by a fool,” added Thero.
“Everyone knew they were hunting the next morning. Why choose a poison that would affect her while she was in their company?”

  “And why go to the trouble of attacking her if she was already dying?” Seregil pointed out.

  “Unless Emiel didn’t know about the poison,” Alec said. “He’s a violent bastard, Seregil. He went after me once, right in the city in front of witnesses, not to mention what he did to you!”

  “That was different. Attacking Klia was madness. Based on what Amali just told us, he could face dwai sholo.” He handed the poisoner’s ring to Thero. “Keep at this. I’ll bet you my best horse if you do find out who used it, it won’t be a Haman.”

  “You think these could be separate events, then?” the wizard asked, staring down at the deadly little circle of steel.

  “You mean more than one clan wanted Klia dead?” Alec felt the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. “Perhaps Sarikali is more like Rhíminee after all.”

  It was a depressing thought.

  Rhaish í Arlisandin dismissed the women as soon as their Skalan visitors were gone, then knelt beside Amali. Her air of quiet triumph sent a chill through him; for a moment he could scarcely feel the ground beneath his knees.

  “By the Light,” he gasped, clutching at her wrist. “Amali, what have you done?”

  She raised her chin proudly, though he saw tears standing in her eyes. “What had to be done, my husband. For Akhendi, and for you. The Haman is no man of honor; the violence is his.”

  She reached out to him, but Rhaish shied away. The terrible mix of sorrow and adoration in his wife’s face scorched him like wildfire, even as the world grew darker around him. Staggering to a nearby chair, he covered his eyes with his hands.

  “You would not confide in me, my husband!” she said imploringly. “Yet I could see your anguish. When Aura placed the means in my hands, I knew what I must do.”

  “The Lightbearer had no hand in this,” he mumbled.

  Alec and Seregil went straight to Klia’s chamber. Though she had not yet regained full consciousness, it seemed right to be in her presence as much as possible, as if they could lend her their life force through sheer proximity.

  It was also the most securely guarded room in the house. Two Urgazhi were stationed outside her door. Inside, Beka sat dozing at the bedside. She jerked awake as they entered, one hand flying to the hilt of her knife.

  “It’s just us,” Seregil whispered, approaching the bed.

  Klia was asleep, but there was a hint of color in her pallid cheeks. A sheen of sweat stood out on her brow and upper lip.

  “She still can’t speak, but Mydri got a little broth into her,” Beka told them. “She’s been like this most of the day, though she opens her eyes now and then. It’s hard to know if she understands what’s said to her yet.”

  Alec caught his breath as a sickly odor assaulted his nostrils. Klia’s left hand was bandaged from fingertips to wrist, and angry red lines of infection arced up the inside of her forearm. Those hadn’t been there at dawn.

  “Amali says Emiel definitely attacked her,” Seregil told Beka.

  She closed her eyes wearily. “I knew it. Did she say why?”

  “No. I think I’d better have a talk with Nazien, though I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “What about the Virésse?” she asked.

  Seregil scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “Finding the ring in Ulan’s fishpond should be pretty damning evidence.”

  “Should?”

  “Well, dropping the ring right outside his own bedchamber door is either the most daring or the most stupid thing I’ve seen in a while. I haven’t decided which yet.”

  “If the Haman are our poisoners, they could have dropped it there to make Ulan look guilty,” said Alec.

  “That begs the question of whether they support the repeal of the Edict. Nazien might want to see Ulan dishonored, if he was serious about supporting Klia after all. Otherwise, he would have supported him. As for Emiel, he was on the side of the Virésse, so it’s unlikely he’d have been behind such a ruse.”

  “We might have just missed seeing the murderer,” Alec said glumly, thinking of the unseen visitor who’d interrupted their tossing of Ulan’s chambers.

  Thero slipped in just then, and the others greeted him with hopeful looks.

  “Nothing yet,” the wizard told them, leaning over Klia’s bed to pass Seregil the ring. “If only I could question her about that night.”

  “Our assassin chose his moment well, whoever he was,” Alec muttered. “If we do clear Haman or Virésse, that still leaves most of Sarikali suspect.”

  “Even if I were free to go about reading minds, it would take months,” added the wizard.

  Beka took the poisoner’s ring. “A lot of good this does us, if you can’t divine any more than you have of it.”

  “I told you, I wasn’t meant to. Someone has masked it so that I can’t trace it to its owner,” Thero snapped. “This is a real wizard we’re dealing with, not some hedgerow conjurer.”

  “Then for all we know, the man we’re looking for has escaped already,” she fretted, handing it back to him. “People come and go all the time here. Our man could be miles away already. By the Flame, Seregil, can’t these rhui’auros of yours do something?”

  He sighed, resting his face in his hands. “According to the one I spoke with this morning, I already know who did it, whatever that means.”

  Beka paused beside Seregil and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Tell us what he said, word for word.”

  Seregil glanced down at Klia and found her eyes open and focused on him. He lifted her good hand and held it gently. “Let’s see. He fed me breakfast and we spoke of Nysander. He admitted that he sent Nyal but claimed that he didn’t send him to me.” He looked at Thero and shook his head. “You know how they can be. Anyway, then he gave me the Plenimaran bottle of lissik. When I recognized the workmanship, he told me ‘He who has two hearts is twice as strong,’ and called me ‘ya’shel khi.’ ”

  “Half-breed soul,” Alec translated for Beka’s benefit.

  Seregil nodded. “I’ve been turning that around in my mind all day, along with his talk of my so-called gift. Whatever that is.”

  “And he said you fight it,” Alec prompted.

  Seregil shrugged again. “A gift for magical ineptitude? A gift for picking pockets and lying well? The only thing he said that makes any sense to me yet is that somehow or other we’ve missed asking the right questions.”

  “Or the right people,” Beka said. “What did Adzriel say about the vote? Will it go forward as things are now?”

  “Nothing’s been changed, so far as she knows.”

  “Both Virésse and Haman are still under interdiction,” said Alec. “Doesn’t that give us an advantage? I mean, we know that Virésse would have voted against us, and Haman might have.”

  “Haman would have been the keystone,” Seregil said. “With just Virésse out of the picture, Nazien’s vote would have broken any tie vote, for good or ill. Things are as uncertain as ever now. Of the nine left, we know Goliníl, Khatme, and Lhapnos are against us. Ra’basi and the rest? Who can say, now that everyone’s so leery of Phoria? Ulan may win without having to vote at all. Beka, I’d like you to fetch Nazien í Hari. Don’t say why, just that I have information regarding his nephew.”

  “Maybe it’s time I went back to the taverns,” Alec offered. “Short of going into housebreaking as a full-time occupation, I don’t see how else we can find much more than we already have. Whoever left that ring meant for us to end up right where we are now, mired solid.”

  “You might as well—”

  He was interrupted by Mydri’s arrival with fresh infusions for Klia.

  “But not alone,” he continued. “Take Kheeta with you, and a rider or two. No one goes out alone, not anymore.”

  “Then you think our murderer is still here?” asked Beka.

  “We have to be prepared for the possibili
ty, and that he’s not done with us yet,” Seregil replied.

  “Do take care,” Mydri warned, picking up the thread of the conversation. “Adzriel has had people out listening around the city; word of what you found has already spread, and tempers are ugly. Akhendi is the worst, accusing Virésse outright of murder. There’s talk of banning Goliníl, and even the Khatme seem to be under suspicion. It’s rumored that Lhaär ä Iriel and Ulan í Sathil were meeting secretly to plot against Klia.”

  “Any news from the Nha’mahat?” Seregil asked.

  Mydri gave him a surprised look. “You know they don’t mix in Iia’sidra business.”

  “Of course.” Seregil bent to pat Klia’s hand one last time, then motioned for Alec to come with him.

  On the way out they nearly collided with Sergeant Mercalle in the corridor.

  “Begging your pardon, my lords,” she said, giving them a quick salute. “I need to speak with Captain Beka regarding orders.”

  “What is it, Sergeant?” Beka asked, stepping out to join them.

  “It’s about the prisoner, Captain. His people are at the front door, asking what we mean to do with him.”

  “Well, well, Nazien has saved us the trouble,” Seregil murmured. “Tell him we’ll speak with him at once, Sergeant. Put them in the sitting room off the main hall.”

  Mercalle nodded to one of the Urgazhi on guard at the door, and the man hurried off. “There is one other thing, as well,” she added. “The house servants wish to know what’s to be done with Lord Torsin.”

  Beka grimaced. “Sakor’s Flame, it’s been a couple of days, hasn’t it? He’ll have to be burnt, and his remains sent home to Skala.”

  “It will have to be done outside the city,” Seregil told her. “Nyal can probably find the materials we’ll need. Have it done tonight; the priests can deal with the proper rites back in Rhíminee. You’d better bring Emiel into the hall now. I want him there when I give his uncle the bad news.”

  “I can’t wait to see their faces,” Beka said, striding off toward the back stair with Mercalle.