Unslinging his bow with surprising speed, Alec brought down two of the great birds and nudged Patch into a canter to retrieve them.
"Well shot!" Seregil called after him, turning his horse loose to drink. "Just yesterday I was wondering if you were out of practice."
Alec rode back with the birds slung from his saddlebow. "Me, too," he said, dismounting to let Patch drink. "At least I won't come in empty-handed. Are we almost there?"
Seregil pointed up the valley. "That's Watermead. We'll have missed supper but I'm sure Kari won't send us to bed hungry."
A few miles above them they could see open meadows and a cluster of buildings nestled against the edge of the mountain forest. Below the main house flocks of sheep wandered like clouds across the face of the hills.
Darker herds moved across some of the other meadows.
Alec squinted at the distant house, wondering what his reception would be.
"Don't worry. You'll be part of the family in no time." Seregil reassured him.
"How many of them are there again?"
"Three girls. Beka's the oldest. She'll be eighteen in Lithion, I think. You'll spend a good deal of time this week looking down her sword. Elsbet's fourteen and has the makings of a scholar. I expect she'll be entering the school at the Illior Temple soon. The youngest girl is Illia, just six years old and already the mistress of the whole estate."
"I hope Micum's wife doesn't mind having me underfoot," Alec said, still feeling shy.
"Kari?" Seregil laughed. "By now Micum's told her all about the poor orphan boy I've dragged south. I'll be lucky to get you back! As for being underfoot, I doubt there'll be much time for that."
Seregil whistled and Scrub splashed up from the stream. Patch, however, had waded out into the middle and seemed content to remain there despite any urging from Alec. Whistle and call as he might, the mare staunchly ignored him. Giving up at last, he stood scowling on the bank.
"Dark looks won't do it," Seregil chuckled.
"I think you're going to have to get your feet wet."
"I'll wet more than that," Alec grumbled, looking at the brownish slime that coated the rocks of the streambed. Suddenly, however he broke into a grin.
Taking an archer's tab from his purse, he held the bit of leather out and called, "Hey you, Patch!"
The mare's head came up at once, ears forward.
Snuffling loudly, she came close enough to nip at it and Alec snagged her by the head stall.
"You'll spoil that beast," Seregil cautioned, splitting an apple for his own horse. "Teach her to come at your whistle, or you'll have to buy a tannery to keep her."
When they reached the summit of the hill they found the gate of the wooden palisade that surrounded the main house open to them. A pack of enormous hounds bounded out of the shadows as they entered the
walled yard, growling suspiciously until they caught Seregil's familiar scent. He dismounted and one of them, a grey-muzzled old male, rose on his hind legs and rested his paws on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. Others milled happily around Alec, slapping him with their plumed tails and sniffing hopefully at the swans hanging at his saddlebow.
"Hello, Dash!" Seregil rubbed the hound's head affectionately before pushing him off. Wading through the pack, he led the way to the door.
Kari was the first to see them as they entered the main hall. The tables had been pushed back against the walls for the night, and she and her women sat spinning around the central fire. Meeting her eyes across the room, Seregil caught a fleeting glimpse of the old apprehension: No, it's too soon, we've only justgotten him back.
That look had given him a degree of satisfaction in the early days, before the rivalry between them had mellowed into friendship. Now it saddened him a little that his sudden appearance still evoked the same flash of resentful alarm.
Before he could reassure her, however, a bundle of dark braids and flying skirts streaked from the direction of the kitchen. Dropping his saddlebags, he scooped Illia up and received a resounding kiss on the cheek.
"Uncle! Look, Mother, Uncle has come after all!" she cried, kissing him again. "But you can't take Father away with you, you know. He's promised to take me riding tomorrow."
Seregil looked down the length of his nose at her. "Now, that's a fine welcome."
"Illia, where are your manners?" Kari laid her distaff aside. She was dark like her daughter, with a gentle oval face that belied her brisk manner.
"Seregil hasn't ridden all this way just to have you hang on him like a burr."
Undeterred, Illia peered over Seregil's shoulder at Alec. "Is this the brave boy who saved Father from the bandits?"
"It is indeed," Seregil answered, pulling Alec forward with his free hand. "Alec's the best archer in the whole entire world, and he shot two enormous swans on the way here especially for your mother. They're outside on his saddle if your dogs haven't eaten them already. He's come to learn sword fighting from your father and Beka, but I'm certain he'll be a fine playfellow for you, in between lessons. You may have him for a week if you promise not to maul him to death. What do you say to that?"
Looking over at Kari, Seregil answered her look of relief with a wink.
"Oh, he's handsome!" Illia exclaimed, climbing down to take Alec's hand. "You're almost as handsome as Uncle Seregil. Can you sing and play the harp like he does?"
"Well, I can sing," Alec admitted as the little girl hauled him toward the hearth.
"Let the poor boy catch his breath before you take at him," her mother chided. "Run out to the stable and fetch your father and sisters. Scat!"
With a last beaming smile for Alec, Illia dashed off.
"Come and sit down by the fire, both of you," Kari said, motioning for her women to make room. "Arna, find some dinner for our friends, and see that a fire's laid in the guest chamber."
The eldest serving woman nodded and disappeared out a side door; the other women retired to a smaller fire at the back of the hall. Turning to Alec, Kari took his hands in hers.
"You're welcome in our home, Alec of Kerry," she said warmly. "Micum told us about the ambush in Folcwine Wood. I owe you a great deal."
"He's done as much for me," Alec replied, feeling awkward. Just then, however, Micum burst in with Illia on one shoulder and an older girl in tow. In his woolen breeches and leather vest he looked every inch the country squire.
"Well, this is a happy surprise!" he cried. "The little jackdaw here says Alec's looking for a real swordsman."
Swinging Illia down, he clasped hands with the two of them. "Beka will be in as soon as she cleans up. One of her mares had a bad foaling this afternoon."
Drawing the older girl to his side, he said, "And this quiet one here is Elsbet, the family beauty."
Elsbet touched Alec's hand in a quick greeting.
Dark hair framed a face very like her mother's, soft and gentle.
"Welcome to Watermead," she murmured, her hand trembling against his for an instant. Blushing to match Alec, she hastily sat down by her mother.
"You must be thirsty after your ride," Kari said, giving Seregil a mischievous look. "If I know you, you talked the whole way. Would you dare sample this season's beer? For once I think it's almost fit to drink."
Micum nudged Alec playfully as she went out.
"This is the first season since we came south that I've seen her satisfied with her beer. Mind you, she's the finest brewer in the valley, but she's never left off saying that northern hops give a finer taste."
"I think I've heard her mention it a few times," Seregil concurred wryly. "Illia, do you think you could fetch my saddlebags there by the door?"
The little girl's eyes went round. "Presents?"
"Who knows?" he teased. "But here's Beka at last."
A tall girl in a stained tunic and breeches burst in, her face lit by an expectant smile.
"Any news, Seregil?" she cried, stooping to hug him.
"Patience, Beka. At least say hello to Alec first.
"
Of all the girls, Beka alone had taken after her father. Freckles peppered her fair skin, and an unkempt mare's tail of coppery red hair tumbled over her shoulder as she leaned forward to clasp hands with Alec. She had rather too much of her father's features to be beautiful, but her sharp blue eyes and ready smile would never let her be called homely either.
"Father says you're quite an archer," she said, looking him over in friendly appraisal. "I hope you brought that bow of yours. I've never seen a Black Radly."
"It's there by the door," Alec replied, suddenly more at ease than he'd been since their arrival.
"Here they are!" Illia puffed, dragging the saddlebags over to Seregil. "Did you remember what I asked you for?"
"Illia, you beggar!" her mother scolded, returning with a pitcher and mugs.
"Why don't you reach in and see what's there while I try your mother's excellent beer?" Seregil suggested, taking a long sip. "Sheer delight, Kari. Better than that served at the royal table of Mycena."
Alec sampled his own and didn't doubt Seregil's sincerity, though Kari obviously did.
"Well, it's better than last year's," she allowed.
Illia, meanwhile, had worried open the first bag.
"These must be for Beka," she said, pulling out a pair of glossy cavalry boots. "She's going to be a horse guard."
"A rider in the Queen's Horse Guard," Beka corrected, looking hopefully at Seregil.
Micum shook his head in mock despair. "We haven't had a moment's peace since she heard you were back."
Seregil drew a scroll case from his coat and presented it to her. Prying off the seal, she shook out the papers inside and scanned quickly down through them, her grin broadening by the second.
"I knew you could do it!" she cried, giving Seregil another exuberant hug. "Look, Mother, I'm to report in a week's time!"
"There's not a finer regiment," Kari said, slipping an arm about Beka's shoulders. "And think how much quieter it will be without you crashing in and out!"
As Beka sat down to try on the new boots, Micum reached to take his wife's hand; her smile did not match the sudden misting of her eyes.
"She's your daughter, right enough," Kari sighed, clasping his hand tightly.
Illia burrowed deeper, finding a tobacco pouch for Micum and a larger bag for her mother.
"Oh, Seregil, you needn't have—"
Kari began, then broke off as she pulled out a handful of papery hop cones and a knot of wizened roots.
"Cavish hops!" she cried, holding the cones to her nose. "This brings my father's hop yard back to me as if I were standing in it! All the cuttings I brought with me here died out years ago. Oh, Seregil, how good of you to think of it. Someday perhaps I'll be able to brew a proper beer again."
Seregil saluted her with his cup. "I want to be the first to broach a keg of the batch that pleases you."
Rescuing a finely bound book from Illia's impatient pillaging, he handed it to Elsbet.
"The dialogs of Tassis!" the girl breathed, examining the cover. Any trace of shyness fled as she opened the volume and ran a finger down the first page. "And in Aurлnfaie! Where did you ever find it?"
"I'd rather not say. But if you look toward the middle, I think you'll find something else of interest."
Elsbet's eyes widened as she drew out a small square of parchment and read Nysander's invitation to visit at her earliest convenience.
"Someone must have mentioned your interest in the Orлska library to him," Seregil said, affecting innocence.
Torn between terror and delight, Elsbet stammered, "I wouldn't know what to say to him."
"He's pretty easy to talk to," Alec told her. "After a few minutes you feel as if you've known him all your life."
Elsbet returned to her book, blushing more hotly than ever.
"Uncle!" Illia rocked back on her heels with an indignant look. "There's nothing else in here!"
"And my lady supposes herself forgotten! Give me your kerchief and climb up in Alec's lap.
Don't be shy—he has lovely young ladies sitting on his lap all the time. You're quite used to it, aren't you, Alec?"
Alec gave Seregil a dark look over the top of Illia's head, not appreciating the gibe.
"Now," said Seregil, pinching the corners of the kerchief together and holding it up, "what was it you asked for last time I was here?"
"Something magic," Illia whispered, dark eyes fastened on the kerchief.
Making a great show of incantations and gestures, Seregil handed it back to her. She unfolded it to find a small ivory carving on a chain.
"What does it do?" she asked, hanging it about her neck at once. Before Seregil could reply, however, a swallow fluttered in through the smoke hole and lit on Illia's knee. Blinking in the firelight, the little bird began to preen.
"It's a drysian charm," Seregil told her as she reached out to stroke its shiny blue wing. "You must be very gentle with the birds it brings to you and never use it for hunting. Study them as much as you like, but put the charm away when you're finished so that they can fly away."
"I promise," Illia said solemnly. "Thank you, Uncle."
"And now it's time for your swallow to fly off in search of its supper," said her mother fondly, "and for you, my little bird, to fly off to your bed."
With a final kiss for Seregil, Illia went out with her mother. Elsbet retired to a quieter corner with the new book.
"Alec, I bet Beka would like a look at that black bow of yours, before it gets too dark,"
Micum suggested. "Get her to show you her horses in return."
"I've got some beauties," Beka said proudly as he fetched his bow and quiver. "Pure Aurлnfaie blood, and some mixed. You'll have to try them out while you're here."
Micum turned to Seregil and raised an eyebrow when they'd gone. "He's just the thing to occupy her while she waits to report. But what am I supposed to teach him that you couldn't yourself?"
Seregil shrugged. "You know me. I have no patience with beginners. Can he ride in with you and Beka at the end of the week?"
"Of course," Micum said, sensing something in the wind. "Something going on back in Rhнminee?"
Seregil pulled out the damning letter Nysander had intercepted. "Seems Lord Seregil has run afoul of the Lerans at last. I've got a forger to track down."
Micum quickly scanned the letter. "Does Alec know?"
"Yes, and he's none too happy about being put out of the way. Keep him occupied and make a swordsman of him for me. It's the only thing holding him back. By the Light, Micum, you've never seen such a sponge for learning. It's all I can do to keep ahead of him!"
"He puts me a great deal in mind of you at that age."
"I could do worse, then. Now, assuming this week goes well, I'd like to arrange a little something special for him when he gets back."
"Smooth his feathers, eh?" Micum asked with a knowing look. "What did you have in mind?"
"I think you'll settle in quite well here," Seregil said with a yawn as he and Alec settled down for the night in the broad guest chamber bed.
Alec watched the play of the firelight across the whitewashed walls of the little room, arms crossed beneath his head. "Do you think Micum will really have better luck teaching me?"
"Would I have brought you all the way out here if I didn't?"
"And what if you're wrong?"
"I'm not."
Alec fell quiet, but Seregil sensed something was still worrying him.
"Go on, speak out."
Alec sighed. "I still feel like you're getting me out of your way."
"I am. But only for the week, just as I told you."
Rising on one elbow, he looked down at Alec.
"Listen to me now. I may make my living lying and tricking, but I'm always honest with friends. There'll be times I choose not to tell you something, but I won't lie to you. That's a promise and there's my hand on it."
Alec clasped it sheepishly, then settled back against the bolsters. "What
are you going to do when you get back?"
"I'll check with Nysander first, see if his sources have found anything else. Then there's Ghemella, a gem cutter in Dog Street, who's known to do a tidy little side business in forged seals."
"How will you get her to talk?"
"Oh, I'll manage something."
23 A Little Night Work
Seregil woke well before dawn the next morning.
Alec had gravitated to the far edge in the night, and lay now curled in his usual tight ball, one arm sticking
stiffly over the side, fingers half curled. Resisting a wayward impulse to touch the tousled mass of yellow hair scattered over the pillow, Seregil dressed in the hall and set off for the city at a gallop.
He reached Nysander's tower rooms before noon and found the wizard at work with Thero over a scroll.
"Any new developments?" asked Seregil. "Not as yet," replied Nysander. "As we expected, they were wise enough not to send more than one of the forgeries at a time. I think we may still have a bit of leeway before their next attempt."
"Then this is all I have to work with." Seregil pulled the forged parchment from his coat again and fingered the wax seals on the ribbons. "These have to be Ghemella's work. I don't know anyone else capable of this quality. Look at this."
Taking his own seal stamp from a pouch, he held it next to the wax imprints; they were indistinguishable.
He'd designed the original himself: a griffin seated in profile, wings extended, one forepaw upraised to support a crescent. The forger had caught every nuance of the design, as well as several tiny imperfections Seregil had specified in the original to make such a forgery easier to catch.
"She knew very well whose seal it is, too," he added wryly. "Lord Seregil has had a number of over-the-counter dealings with her."
"There's no chance these were somehow struck with the original?" asked Thero, examining the seal. "I seem to recall you breaking into noble houses to steal impressions."
"Which is why I make a point of not letting my own seal out of my possession," Seregil replied curtly, tucking it away.
"You will look into this yourself, I trust?" said Nysander.
"Oh, yes indeed."
"Very well. In the meantime, I must ask you to leave the letter with me."
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