Something in his friend's face made Alec still more uneasy. "Any idea what the priest meant by it?" he asked.

Seregil pulled his hood up against the night's chill as he rose to go. Alec couldn't see his face as he replied, "I can't say that I do."

7

The Wheel Street house was already full of music by the time they returned. Alec handed his dark cloak to a servant at the entrance and followed Seregil into the hall. A number of guests were already enjoying the wine and food. Each had been presented with a brightly ribboned lightwand upon arrival and these provided a cool, shifting light as people danced or strolled about the room.

A flurry of applause greeted them as Runcer gravely announced their arrival from his station by the door.

"Welcome to my home on this dark, cold night!" Seregil called out. "For those of you who've not yet met my companion, allow me to present Sir Alec i Gareth of Ivywell."

Alec made a graceful bow and quickly scanned the room for familiar faces. Kylith's party was there, but there was no sign yet of Nysander or the Cavishes. In a far corner, however, he spotted a knot of officers in the green and white of the Queen's Horse Guard. Klia's friend and fellow officer, Captain Myrhini, saluted him with her lightwand from their midst and Alec waved back, wondering if Beka was with her.

He was just heading over to find out when Seregil slipped a hand under his arm and steered him off toward a group of nobles.

"Time to play the gracious hosts."

Together, they made a circuit of the room, moving smoothly from one conversation to another, most of which centered around the omens at the ceremony.

"I thought they rather overdid the thing this year," sniffed a young nobleman introduced as Lord Melwhit. "What doubt is there that war is coming? Preparations have been going on since summer."

A grave, blond woman turned from a conversation with Admiral Nyreidian and greeted Seregil in Aurenfaie.

"Ysanti maril Elustri, Melessandra a Marana," Seregil returned warmly. "Allow me to present Sir Alec. Lady Melessandra and her uncle, Lord Torsin, are the Skalan envoys to Aurenen."

"Ysanti bek far, my lady," Alec said with a bow.

"Ysanti maril Elustri, Sir Alec," she returned. "Lord Seregil is instructing you in his native language, I see. There are so few nowadays who speak it well."

"And fewer still who speak it so well as you, dear lady," added Seregil.

"It's a pretty language, if one can manage it," Nyreidian rumbled. "I wouldn't dare attempt it in front of you, Lord Seregil. I'm told my pronunciation is grotesque."

"It is!" Melessandra agreed, laughing. "Forgive our interruption, Lord Seregil, but we were just debating whether the portents at the temple tonight were genuine. Would you care to venture the Aurenfaie view?"

Alec watched with interest as Seregil struck a thoughtful pose. "Well, to question the omens' veracity would be tantamount to casting doubt on the Oracle itself, wouldn't you say?"

She gave the admiral a pointed look. "Many would not hesitate to do so."

Seregil tactfully changed the subject. "I understand your uncle accompanied the remains of Corruth i Glamien back to Viresse?"

"Yes, and allow me to offer my sympathies for the loss of your kinsman," said Melessandra. "It must have been a terrible shock in the midst of your own difficulties."

"Thank you. The reports given by the Queen's agents who found him were chilling, to say the least. Yet some good may come of it. Have you heard what the council's reaction was in Aurenen?"

Melessandra rolled her eyes. "Complete uproar. You know the old guard still contends that Skala is accountable for the actions of the Lerans. Yet there are those among the younger members who argue more and more for an end to isolationism. Adzriel a Illia is one of the chief proponents for reconciliation."

"Illia?" asked Alec, pricking up his ears at the familiar name.

"Certainly," Seregil said, giving him a level look that warned discreetly against questions. "What else would it be? Unless you're confusing her with Adzriel a Olien again?"

"Oh-yes. I suppose I must be," Alec managed, wondering what blunder he'd committed this time. "Family names are so much simpler in Mycena,"

Seregil went on lightly. "Poor Alec is still struggling with all our lengthy patronymics and matronymics and lineages."

Melessandra appeared sympathetic. "It must be overwhelming if you're not born to it. But there's Lord Geron and I must speak with him at once. Erismai."

She gave Alec a last, rather puzzled look, then strolled away accompanied by Nyreidian and the others.

"I said something wrong, didn't I?" Alec whispered hurriedly, before some other guest descended on them.

"My fault," Seregil replied with a slight smile. "If I'd been here this last week I'd have thought to prepare you better. Illia was my mother's name. My eldest sister, Adzriel a Illia, was recently made a member of the lia'sidra."

"Sister?" Never, in all the time Alec had known him, had Seregil mentioned his family, or almost anything else about his past in Aurenen. Alec had come to assume that his friend was as much an orphan as himself.

"And eldest? How many do you have?"

"Four, actually. I was the only boy, and the youngest," Seregil replied somewhat tersely.

"Little brother Seregil?" Alec smothered a grin as his entire perception of his friend subtly shifted. He could sense the old barriers going up again, however, and prudently changed the subject. "It sounds like the Skalans want Aurenen as allies again, like they were in the Great War."

"They do, but bad blood over Corruth will get in the way. Our recent discovery may make things worse rather than better, at least for now."

"But it's been almost three hundred years since Corruth disappeared."

"Remember who we're talking about, Alec. Many of the most powerful people on the lia'sidra were his friends and contemporaries. They haven't forgotten the reception he received from the Skalans when he married their queen, or his suspicious disappearance after her death. If Lera hadn't had the poor sense to leave her half sister Corruthesthera alive, there might have been war between the two nations then. As for a new alliance, I'm afraid that may depend more on the Plenimarans in the end. If they join with Zengat—"

"Oh, Lord Seregil! There you are!"

A gaggle of young nobles crowded noisily around them, wreathed in expectant grins.

"We thought you'd never come home," chided a young woman, wrapping her arm through Seregil's. "You missed my autumn revel this year, you know."

Seregil pressed a hand dramatically to his heart. "As I stood on a rolling deck under a full red moon that night, my thoughts were all of you. Can you forgive me?"

"It was a crescent moon; I recall it perfectly. But I'll grant you a conditional pardon if you'll introduce me to your new friend," she fluttered, looking boldly across at Alec, who'd been crowded to the edge of the circle.

Alec smiled his way through an onslaught of complex introductions, noting as he did so that his polite greetings were not always returned with the same grace.

A number of them, in fact, were decidedly cool.

Seregil hesitated as he came to a handsome, auburn-haired dandy surrounded by an entourage of admirers. "Forgive me, sir, I don't believe I've had the pleasure?"

The man gave an elaborate bow. "Pelion i Eirsin Heileus Quirion of Rhiminee, dear sir."

"Not the acclaimed actor, who just played «Ertis» at the Tirarie?" gasped Seregil.

The man puffed visibly. "The same, my lord. I pray you'll forgive my intrusion, but my companions insisted."

"On the contrary, I'm delighted! I hope you'll let me know when you next perform. By all reports, you're the next Kroseus."