"And if he's right? The bailiff who arrested Seregil had my name, too. If I show up with evidence they'll never believe us!"

"Probably not. Which means we have to make certain it gets to the Queen some other way. The City Watch, for instance. I daresay they'd welcome the opportunity to arrest a traitor."

"Sure, but why would the Watch believe us any more than the Queen's Bailiff?"

"They wouldn't," Micum said with a sly smile. "But Myrhini will."

"Who?" Alec was too tired to place the name immediately.

"Princess Klia's friend. She's a captain of the Horse Guard."

Alec, rubbed his eyelids with the heels of his palms. "Oh, yes, the one who took me to the barracks for a pass that day Seregil had me robbed."

"The day he what?"

"Never mind. You think Myrhini will help us?"

"For Klia's sake, if not for Seregil's. I'll send a message, but I don't expect we'll see her before dawn. You try out this new bed of yours in the meantime. I have an idea tomorrow will be another long day."

Alec gave a humorless laugh. "I don't think I've seen a short one since I met Seregil!"

27 Hind Street

Opening his eyes the next morning, Alec was startled to find Runcer bending over him. "Forgive me for the intrusion, Sir Alec, but Sir Micum sent me to wake you." Moving with fossilized dignity, the old man set a steaming pitcher on the washstand.

The promise of a watery grey dawn filtered in at the window. He couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours. Sitting up, Alec watched the old servant moving about the room at what were apparently his morning duties. After laying out the bath items, he fetched clean linen and a fresh shirt from a clothes chest and laid them out on the foot of the bed.

Unaccustomed to such ministrations, Alec watched with growing unease. His experiences at the Orлska baths had left him wary of servants.

What if the man wanted to help him dress? It was unnatural, having another person doing things for him as if he were a child or an invalid. The man's respectful silence only made matters worse.

"You manage the household, don't you?" Alec asked as Runcer proceeded to brush his cloak. How much, he wondered, did this wrinkled old man know of his real background-or Seregil's, for that matter?

"Of course, sir," Runcer replied with no discernible change of expression. "Lord Seregil has left instructions that you be made comfortable. Breakfast has been laid in the dining room and Captain Myrhini is expected shortly. Shall I lay out your clothes, sir?"

"I suppose so."

Runcer went to another chest for breeches, then creaked to a halt at the wardrobe. "And which coat would you prefer today, sir?"

Having absolutely no clue as to the contents of the wardrobe, Alec hazarded a guess. "The blue, please."

"The blue, sir." The old servant took out an outrageously ornate coat stitched with gold beading.

"Well, maybe not the blue," Alec countered hastily. "I'll decide later."

"Very good, sir."

To Alec's dismay, Runcer did not leave but instead gave him another of those expectant looks. After a long, chagrined moment Alec realized he was waiting to be dismissed.

"Thank you, Runcer, I don't need you."

"Very good, sir." The old man bowed and left the room.

"Bilairy's Balls!" Jumping out of bed, Alec stalked to the wardrobe and inspected the surcoats hanging there. The blue was by far the gaudiest. Pawing through the others, he found a plain russet and hurried into his clothes. Not surprisingly, they all fit as if he'd been measured for them, even down to the boots.

Seregil did this while I was in Watermead, Alec thought with a pang. A nd none of it will be worth adamn if we don't get him out of the Tower.

He headed downstairs and followed the smell of sausage to a pleasant room overlooking the garden.

Micum was seated already, with Seregil's two Zengati hounds lying to either side of his chair. Apparently they held no grudge over his recent burglary. At his approach they merely raised their gleaming white heads, heavy tails brushing the floor in welcome.

Micum pushed a plate of sausage his way.

"You'd better eat something. Myrhini will be here any minute."

They'd barely finished their hasty meal when Runcer ushered in the tall captain.

"This had better be fast. I've got inspection in an hour," she warned, mud-spattered cloak billowing about her legs as she joined them at the table.

"How's Klia taking the news of the arrest?" asked Micum.

"Oh, she's livid, but worried, too. Queen's Kin or no, Viceregent Barien's out for blood, and pissed as hell that Idrilain granted a grace period before the questioning starts."

"Nysander expected that," said Alec. "Does Barien have a grudge against Seregil?"

Myrhini held up her hands. "Who knows? According to Klia, he thinks Seregil's a bad influence and has never liked his being friends with her and the twins."

Elesthera and Tymore, thought Alec. Seregil had drilled him mercilessly on the royal family. The twins were Klia's older brother and sister, Idrilain's other children by her second consort.

"Did you tell Klia you were meeting us?" asked Micum.

"No and she'll ream me for it when she finds out. But I agree with you that it's best not to involve her until we know which way die wind's going to blow. So, how can I help?"

Micum poured more tea and settled back in his chair. "There's a man in Hind Street, a forger, who

probably fabricated the false documents that put Seregil in the Tower. Seregil had planned to go after him himself tonight; he wants us to go ahead without him."

"But the evidence can't come from us," added Alec.

"Barien could say we made it up just to clear Seregil's name."

Myrhini looked out at the grey sky brightening above the muddy garden. "What you need is someone to tip off the bluecoats. Someone who won't ask too many questions."

"That's about the size of it," said Micum. "Of course, there's a certain amount of risk involved. I'd understand if you wanted no part of it."

Myrhini waved the warning aside with a disgusted look.

"As it happens, there is a certain captain of the Watch who'd be happy enough to do me a favor. And Hind Street just happens to be in his ward-to catch a forger squeezing nobles would be a proper feather in his cap."

Micum grinned knowingly. "Enough said. We'll send word as soon as we're certain of our man. When we do, you speak to your bluecoat captain. Alec and I will play the flushing hounds and he can have the kill.

We'll need you there, though. Your captain can't see us or know we're involved."

"I'll be there." Myrhini rose to go. "Having one of the Queen's daughters as best friend and commander does have its occasional advantages, you know."

Alec made his way through a cold winter drizzle to Hind Street an hour later. It was a neighborhood of plain, respectable tenements: five-story wood and stone buildings constructed around small interior courtyards.

Dressed as a country lad of good family, he made a show of great agitation as he asked directions along the street. He was directed to a whitewashed building in the third block. Hurrying into the courtyard, he spotted a brass mortar hung over a door on the ground level. The shutters were open. With a silent prayer to Illior of the Thieves, he lifted the latch and burst into the little shop.

The low room reeked of herbs and oils. A young boy stood heating something over a lamp at a table near the back of the shop.

"Is this the apothecary's?" Alec asked breathlessly.

"Aye, but Master Alben's still at his breakfast," the boy replied without looking up from his work.

"Call him, please!" cried Alec. "I've been sent for medicine. My poor mother's had an issue of blood since last night, and nothing seems to stop it!"