"I d.a.m.n near did die from the magic they put on me. I don't know how long I slept, or what he did to me while I did, but when I woke up it was just the old woman for a long time. Ilar showed up later, after he made sure I saw you two together in the garden."

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" he hissed. "How was he with you?"

"He had me at his mercy, and he enjoyed it."

Alec thought he caught just the slightest hint of uncertainty in his lover's voice. "Did he force you-"

"You saw what they did to him. But if that had been what it took to get to you, I would have, without a second thought." Seregil pulled him close again. "Would you have hated me for that?"

Alec looked deep into his own heart. "No," he murmured, and felt Seregil's sigh of relief.

"Besides, I attacked him the first chance I got," Seregil added, clearly pleased at that. "After that, he knew I'd kill him the minute he let his guard down. Whatever else Ilar is, he's no fool. Come on, now. We've got to find someplace to lie up before the sun rises."

"How far to the Strait?"

"I'm not sure, but if we turn south tomorrow, we're bound to strike it."

"And then?"

Seregil gave him a crooked grin. "We take what the Lightbearer sends. Hopefully in the form of a nice swift little boat, eh? Luck in the shadows, Alec. It hasn't failed us yet."

"And in the Light," Alec murmured, hoping the Immortal in question was listening.

As they moved on, Seregil half expected Alec to drop the rhekaro and attack Ilar again.

Instead, when Ilar fell behind, Alec resumed their earlier conversation. "So, who do you think betrayed us to Yhakobin in the first place? The queen, or Ulan i Sathil?"

"I don't know. Maybe both. But having had a good long time to ponder the matter, I'd say that if the queen was looking for an excuse to cast doubt on her sister's loyalty, our disappearance with the only missive might be a good starting point."

"What about Prince Korathan? Would he do something like that to you?"

Seregil frowned. "I wouldn't have said so, but who knows? If things are really that bad, there isn't much point in going back to Skala."

"Do you think Mic.u.m knows we're in trouble yet? Thero must have figured out there was something wrong when the messages didn't come."

"We don't know that they didn't get them, Alec. Whoever caught us might have figured the sticks out and used them. There's no way of telling. It's just us, tali. We're on our own."

Alec shrugged. "Well, we're free, and we're together. That's a start."

Seregil's grin was all the answer he needed.

CHAPTER 39 39.

Thero Turns Nightrunner

LED BY THERO'S sightings, he and Mic.u.m entered Viresse as travelers and lost themselves in the crowds of one of the seedier dock wards. They soon located the tavern with the dragon and serpent sign-a low, dirty place frequented by Skalan and Plenimaran sailors, Zengati traders, and other rough sorts. There were no 'faie there, apart from the proprietor-a one-eyed Golinil clansman named Wharit. He was as dirty and disreputable as his clientele, distinguished only by his lack of facial hair and his filthy brown-and-white sen'gai. The barmaids and potboys were all foreigners, as were the wh.o.r.es plying their trade there. sightings, he and Mic.u.m entered Viresse as travelers and lost themselves in the crowds of one of the seedier dock wards. They soon located the tavern with the dragon and serpent sign-a low, dirty place frequented by Skalan and Plenimaran sailors, Zengati traders, and other rough sorts. There were no 'faie there, apart from the proprietor-a one-eyed Golinil clansman named Wharit. He was as dirty and disreputable as his clientele, distinguished only by his lack of facial hair and his filthy brown-and-white sen'gai. The barmaids and potboys were all foreigners, as were the wh.o.r.es plying their trade there.

Mic.u.m stopped just inside the door and wrinkled his nose at the stink of smoke and unwashed bodies, then said softly, "This isn't quite how I pictured Aurenen."

"Viresse port is a meeting place for all sorts."

Mic.u.m adjusted his sword belt for the benefit of anyone taking his measure. "That's all right, then. I know how to act here."

They sat down at a small table and Mic.u.m called for a pitcher of turab from a pa.s.sing barmaid, holding up a silver half-sester piece and giving her a rakish smile. The woman's smile was bright and false as bra.s.s, but she brought them their beer and settled on Mic.u.m's knee.

"You got the sound of a Skalan, my dear," she purred, eyeing the silver piece. She had a Riga accent and dark, sharp eyes.

Mic.u.m tucked the coin between her ample b.r.e.a.s.t.s and squeezed her thigh, while Thero looked on with poorly concealed surprise. "I'm a long way from home, my girl, and always glad to see a pretty face. Even if she is too young for me."

The woman, who was most a.s.suredly not too young for anyone, wiggled suggestively and stroked his stubbled cheek. "You're a charmer. Will you want a room for sleeping, you and your friend?" She gave Thero a sloe-eyed look that made the younger man blush.

"Indeed we will," said Mic.u.m. "But not until we've had some hot food and a decent wash." He produced another coin and held it up. "Can you help us with that?"

"We have good food, and a tub in the yard out back." She eyed the coin meaningfully. "For men I like, I can get you hot, fresh water."

Mic.u.m laughed and gave her another squeeze and the coin. "Ah, you're honeycomb, girl, sweet as can be. What's your name, my dove?"

"Rose to you, handsome."

"Well, then, Rosie my love." He set her on her feet and gave her a playful smack on the bottom. "Whatever you've got cooking back there, bring us the best of it and tell 'em to warm up that tub!"

She laughed and flounced off toward the kitchens.

"No wonder Kari wants you kept at home!" Thero exclaimed under his breath.

Mic.u.m sipped his turab, smiling. "Time and place, my friend. All that dolly really wants is my silver."

"But what if she wants more?"

"Well, Seregil generally used to handle that end of things when the need arose. But you're welcome to step in, seeing as he's not here."

"I don't have the right sort of healing spells to risk it!"

"Don't be unkind. You don't know the life she's had, stuck in a place like this. She's probably somebody's grandmother by now, three or four times over. Now, as to why we're here, about to risk a dose of slop belly on the food?"

Thero palmed the tooth and closed his eyes. "He's close, but not in this tavern."

"Well, then, let's enjoy our dinner and this fine beer."

The turab was good, in fact, and so was the food, much to Thero's amazement. Razor clams boiled with wine and herbs was the specialty of the house, and the floor was strewn with the long, narrow sh.e.l.ls. They were a rarity in Skala, and seldom seen this time of year.

Rose came back with a few hot, spiced bread rolls for them in a napkin. Thero was impressed until he tore one open and found a few weevils baked inside among the raisins. Mic.u.m ate his share with relish, though, picking out the bugs without a care.

"Now then, Rosie my love, I wonder if you know a man I'm looking for?" asked Mic.u.m, pulling the woman into his lap again.

"What you wanting a man for when you got me?" she teased, then nodded at Thero. "Or him? He's a bit on the stringy side, but I like his face. Does he always scowl like that?"

Mic.u.m laughed. "Most of the time, yes. And I'll see to you later, but this fellow I'm after owes me money and I've a mind to collect."

"Well, I know a lot of men," she drawled coyly.

Mic.u.m reached into his purse and held up another coin. "The wh.o.r.eson's name is Notis."

"That one!" She laughed and shook her dark curls. "By the Sailor, he's a terror! Drinks himself silly, then pukes on the floor so he can drink some more. Wharit's thrown him out half a dozen times, but he's got the money to come back in when he sobers up."

"That's good news. I could use some of that good Plenimar coin in my pocket."

"Then you're out of luck, love," she told him, then burst out laughing. "For all his money is 'faie, stamped with the Viresse seal, every penny of it."

"Well now, I guess that spends just as good. How's that tub coming along? And what do I have to do to get some soap with it?"

Rose was in good humor, it seemed, for all it cost was a kiss from Thero. She smelled of old beer and cooking smoke but he made a decent job of it and she pinched his cheek.

Mic.u.m gave him first go at the tub. It was splintery and in plain sight of the kitchen door, but he was anxious to show Mic.u.m he could act his part as well as the next man. He stripped off and climbed hastily into the tub while Mic.u.m sat on a barrel and smoked. As he soaped his hair, it occurred to him that he was being given a glimpse of the sort of life Mic.u.m and Seregil had shared all those years, out in the world, while his world had still extended little further than the Oreska gardens.

"I'm afraid I'm a poor subst.i.tute for him," Thero said, knowing Mic.u.m would know whom he meant.

Mic.u.m smiled around his pipe stem. "You're not so bad."

Pleased, Thero ducked his head and climbed out to dry himself with the threadbare towel Rose had left for them. As he reluctantly pulled his dirty clothes back on, Mic.u.m took his turn in the tub. As he stripped, Thero looked sidelong at the numerous scars that covered the man's body, including a thick rope of raised white flesh that wrapped around his chest to his hip. Seregil had many, too, and even Alec. He saw them as proof of the bond between the three-marks left by the lives they'd chosen.

Mic.u.m sank up to his chin in the water, pipe still clenched between his teeth. "That's a long face. What's the matter with you? I was only joking about Rose, you know."

Caught out, Thero smiled and waved aside his concern. "Just worried about them. I'll be happier when we find what we're looking for."

Notis did not make an appearance at the Serpent and Dragon that night, so Thero took the tooth in hand again and sighted for him along the dark, malodorous streets of the harbor front. They found him at last in a tavern on the far side, drinking with a handful of fellow Plenimarans and a couple of Zengat. None were dressed like soldiers, but they had that same hard, dangerous air about them, and they were all well armed. Among them was the man he'd seen. As he laughed with the man beside him, Thero saw the gap where he'd lost the tooth.

"Should we lure him outside?" he whispered to Mic.u.m. This place was even dirtier than the Serpent.

"No need," Mic.u.m a.s.sured him, and walked right over to them. Thero hung back, sure he was about to witness a knifing, but Mic.u.m said something that made them all laugh, and before Thero knew it, they were all drinking together.

Since Notis was already drunk, and Mic.u.m was liberal in standing more rounds for them, he had no trouble loosening the man's tongue. Mic.u.m started off arguing good-naturedly about horses with them, but somehow steered the conversation around to their trade.

Mic.u.m, whom Thero had never suspected of being such a consummate actor, pretended surprise when he heard what their business was. "What are you doing here, then? Aurenfaie don't deal in flesh."

"Shhhhh! We don't bring that here," Notis explained, leaning on Mic.u.m's shoulder. "We carry the poor b.u.g.g.e.rs to the Riga markets, then take on cargo for here. You get the money here, get more flesh and round and round we go! The khirnari don't care, so long as we got no slaves aboard when we drop anchor here."

"Is that the best port for it? Riga?"

"Unless we got something real special. That we take to Benshal. Good money in Riga, but best money in Benshal. The Overlord? I hear he's got five hundred of the best in his private collection. And that's just the bedders. All the household slaves? They got to be perfect, too. No marks 'cept for the brands. Especially on the face."

"Not even what the clothes cover up?" asked Mic.u.m.

"Not even," Notis a.s.sured him.

"Do you get many of those?"

"No, d.a.m.n the luck! We've not been up that way for months. Just come back from Riga, though." Notis slapped his purse down on the tabletop with a respectable jingle of coin.

"By the Flame, there must be good money in it," Mic.u.m exclaimed, slurring a little now himself. "How's a man get into that business, anyway?"

Eyes narrowed around the table at that. "You asking, Skala?"

"Do I sound like a Skalan to you?" Mic.u.m scoffed, offended. "I'm a northlander! No queens for me. No sir, I'm a free man, free to do as I please. And..." He paused and gave them a knowing wink. "Making money always pleases me. Only I'm wondering, if old Ulan knows the cargo you carry, why does he let your ships anywhere near his fai'thast, eh?"

A Zengat with a scar across the bridge of his nose leaned in and whispered, "That is because of the agreement."

"What agreement?" Thero asked, speaking up at last.

Notis and the others went silent and suddenly all eyes were on Thero, and not looking too friendly.

"That's a Skalan you're with," Notis growled.

"Him?" Mic.u.m jerked a thumb at Thero. "Don't mind him. I met him on the ship coming over and he's been buying the drinks. What do you say, Thorwin? You too proud to earn your living?"

It took Thero only a second to realize that he was Thorwin, and that a great deal rode on the proper response. "Since my father cast me out, I've made my own way just fine," he shot back, trying to match the coa.r.s.e, off-hand way Mic.u.m had been speaking. "One country's silver spends the same as another's, in my experience."

The others stared at him a moment, then they all burst out laughing, and Mic.u.m with them.

Notis slapped Mic.u.m on the shoulder, rocking on the bench. "You got you a fine companion, friend. He talks like a priest, all stiff like a dead fish." He stood and locked his arms at his sides, shuffling drunkenly from foot to foot, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of his friends.

Why am I always compared to fish? Thero wondered, nonetheless relieved by this reaction. Thero wondered, nonetheless relieved by this reaction.

"What sorts of things do you bring back over the water?" Mic.u.m asked, giving Thero a wink.

"Iron, copper, spirits mostly. This time we also bring back some 'faie."

"Aurenfaie?"

"Freed slaves. Bunch of rubbish, you ask me, all beaten down and branded. Better off throwing 'em into the sea. But we get paid by the head, so we took good care of them. Only lost one."

"You got paid to bring slaves out of Plenimar?" Mic.u.m shook his head. "I never heard of such a thing!"

"Ransom," the Zengat said, licking his lips. "Pays better than slaving sometimes. Trouble is, so many of the freed ones kill themselves before we can get them back."