He was interrupted by Wethis, who'd returned from his errand.

"Lord Teukros wasn't home to receive the message," the young servant reported. "Lady Althia says he's gone out to Lady Kassarie's estate and isn't expected home until tomorrow afternoon. Shall I ride out?"

"That is not necessary, Wethis, thank you. I shall not be needing you again tonight."

Micum raised a skeptical eyebrow as Wethis went out. "Kassarie? What would she want with a strutting cowbird like Teukros?"

"They have some common shipping interests, I believe," said Nysander.

"How interesting if Kassarie was mixed up in all this," Seregil speculated, looking pensive. "She's rich, powerful, and fairly influential among the more conservative nobles. To my knowledge she's not part of the Queen's inner circle, but—"

"Who's Kassarie?" asked Alec.

Seregil steepled his fingers before him in a manner that generally presaged one of his encyclopedic recitations. "Lady Kassarie a Moirian is the head of another of Skala's oldest families. Like Barien, she can trace her lineage back to the Hierophantic migration. And, I should add, without a drop of foreign blood sullying her august veins. Her ancestors made their fortunes in stonework at Ero, and prospered again providing Queen Tamir with stone and masons to build her new capital. Her estate lies up in the mountains about ten miles or so southeast of the city."

Nysander rose to pace the small room. "Be that as it may, I find it inconceivable that Barien should be involved with such a plan. Illior's Eyes, I have known that man for fifty years! And Phoria? That makes no sense whatsoever."

"I can't imagine what she and the Lerans would have to gain from each other," Micum concurred. "In their eyes, her blood is as tainted as her mother's."

"She wouldn't be the first noble to be duped into a betrayal of some sort without realizing it," warned Seregil. "And if her dear close friend Lord Barien was in with the Lerans, he'd be just the man to do it."

"But why would he betray her?" snorted Nysander.

"Who knows? Alec and I could probably slip in and—"

"Absolutely not!" Nysander paused, rubbing his eyes. "I agree, dear boy, that we must examine this matter closely, but you must leave Barien and the Princess Royal to me. For the time being, you three are to confine your investigation to Teukros and Kassarie. It is not yet midnight; could you begin tonight?"

"Oh, I suppose we could drag ourselves out again, if we have to," Seregil drawled, exchanging a wink with the others.

"Excellent. I shall arrange a pass and see that your horses are saddled. Take whatever else you need from here. You must excuse me now, for I have work of my own to begin. Illior's Luck to you all!"

Alec let out a sigh of relief. "At least I don't have to go back to Wheel Street tonight. Runcer treats me like the master of the house, and I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do."

"I know how you feel," said Seregil, stretching restlessly. "I'll go mad myself if I have to be cooped up in here much longer."

Watching his friend scratch irritably at Thero's bearded cheek, Alec wasn't certain if "in here" meant Nysander's tower or the assistant wizard's body.

31 Kassarie

Orлska livery for Alec and Micum, together with a pass presented by "Thero," got the three of them through the Sea Gate without challenge. Once outside the walls, they followed the highroad south along the cliffs below the city. A few miles farther on, they turned aside onto another route that climbed into the hills.

Just like old times. Everybody knows the way but me, Alec thought resignedly.

This road climbed into forest to twist along the top of a broad river gorge. The ice-laden boughs of fir trees gradually closed in on their left; the rush of the river followed them on the right.

After several miles, Micum motioned for them to halt. Climbing down, he cast back and forth with a lightstone.

"See anything?" inquired Seregil.

"Not much. The mud must have stayed frozen all day up here."

Riding on, they caught a glimpse of watch fires ahead. Lady Kassarie's keep stood on a high cliff overlooking a bend in the river.

Sheer cliffs rose behind it, and a high bailey guarded the front. Working their way stealthily around the periphery of the wall, the three spies climbed a wooded slope and climbed into the branches of a tall fir overlooking the place.

There seemed to be nothing amiss: an unremarkable collection of small outbuildings-sheds, wood stacks, and stables— cluttered the yard.

The keep itself was an imposing structure. Tall, square-built, and smooth-walled, it had no windows except for arrow slits below the third level. Square, flat-topped towers stood at each of the four corners, and watch fires burned on all but the one overhanging the gorge.

"Tight as a soaked barrel," Seregil muttered, craning his neck for a better look.

"Appears so," Micum agreed, shifting restlessly on his branch. "Looks like we'll do better tricking our way in."

"Too late for that now," said Alec. "It can't be more than a couple of hours to morning."

"True." Frowning, Seregil climbed down again. "Looks like we're spending a cozy night right here."

Nysander made his way to Silvermoon Street immediately upon leaving Seregil and the others. The streets were quiet at this hour and he met only one other person as he neared Barien's house, a hasty rider whose passing tore at the stillness of the night with a clatter of harness and hooves. The sound

passed away with the rider, and he could hear the annoyed grumbling of the guards at the palace gates ahead.

He was surprised to find Barien's gate locked for the night and the lantern over the door extinguished.

The Viceregent shared Nysander's preference for the late hours and seldom retired so soon after midnight. Dismounting, Nysander rapped at the gate until the watchman appeared at the postern.

"Good evening to you, Lord Nysander," the man greeted him, accustomed to the wizard's odd hours.

"Good evening, Quil. I wish to speak with the Viceregent."

"Sorry, my lord, but Lord Barien's abed already. He left instructions not to be disturbed by anyone but the Queen herself. He was quite firm about it, too. And just between you and me, sir, the chamberlain said the master didn't look well when he retired. He'd been out to dinner but come back early looking right Peaked."

"I see," said Nysander. "Poor fellow, I hope it was nothing he ate. Where did he dine?"

"Chamberlain didn't say, my lord, only that Lord Barien wasn't to be disturbed on any account."

"Then I suppose I must call again tomorrow. Please give your master my respects."

Continuing along Silvermoon to a nearby fountain, Nysander sat on its rim and sent a sighting back to Barien's villa.

The Viceregent was indeed in bed, thumbing listlessly through a small book lying open on the counterpane.

Nysander recognized the book with a pang of sadness; it was a volume of bardic poetry he himself had given to Barien some years before. He seemed to settle at last on a page and Nysander shifted his sighting to read it.

" Break, Noble Heart. Dissolve to ashes if thy Honor impugned be," Nysander quoted silently, recognizing a line.

A swift, tactful brush across the surface of Barien's mind revealed a deep, weary melancholy, nothing more.

It would have been simple enough to translocate himself the short distance to Barien's chamber, but a moment's deliberation left Nysander disinclined to do so. Neither Barien's mood nor current activity warranted such an impertinent intrusion. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

Seregil and the others spent a cheerless night beneath the trees, awakening at dawn to find one of Nysander's blue spheres hovering in the air just over Seregil's head. Passing his hand through it, he released the message.