11 SETTLING IN

Alec's heart sank a little when Adzriel pointed out their guest house. Tall, narrow, and topped with some sort of small, open-sided structure, the house loomed ominously against the late-afternoon sky.

Inside, he found little to alter his opinion. Though well appointed and staffed by smiling Bokthersans, the place had a shadowed, oppressive feel—not at all like the airy comfort of Gedre.

What in the world makes them think this place is beautiful? he wondered again, but kept his opinions to himself as Kheeta guided them through the house. The warren of dimly lit rooms were stacked at odd levels and connected by narrow corridors and galleries that seemed to all slant to some disconcerting degree. Interior rooms had no windows, while the outer ones opened onto broad balconies, many without the privacy of draperies or screens.

"Your Bash'wai had an interesting concept of architecture," Alec grumbled to Seregil, stumbling over an unexpected rise in a passageway.

The interior walls were crafted of the same patterned stone as the outer ones. Accustomed to the rich murals and statuary of Skala, it struck Alec as odd that a people would leave no pictorial record of their daily life.

A large reception hall took up much of the ground floor. Smaller rooms behind it were appointed for private use. At the back lay several bathing chambers and an enormous kitchen that overlooked a walled stable yard. This was flanked on the right by the stables, and to the left by a low stone building that would serve as a barracks for Beka's turma. A back gate let out onto an alley between this house and Adzriel's.

Klia, Torsin, and Thero had rooms on the second floor. Alec and Seregil had a large room to themselves on the third. Cavernous despite the colorful Aurenfaie furnishings, its high ceiling was lost in shadow.

Alec discovered a narrow staircase at the end of the hallway and followed it up to a flat roof and the octagonal stone pavilion that stood there.

Arched openings on each of its eight walls afforded pleasant views of the valley. Inside, smooth blocks of black stone served as benches and tables. Standing there alone, he could easily imagine the house's original inhabitants sitting around him, enjoying the cool of the evening. For an instant he could almost hear the lost echo of voices and footsteps, the rise and fall of music played on unknown instruments.

The scuff of leather against stone startled him and he jerked around to find Seregil grinning at him from the doorway.

"Dreaming with your eyes open?" he asked, crossing to the window that overlooked Adzriel's house.

"I guess so. What's this thing called?"

"A colos"

"It feels haunted."

Seregil draped an arm around Alec's shoulders. "And so it is, but there's nothing to fear. Sarikali is a city dreaming, and sometimes she talks in her sleep. If you listen long enough, sometimes you can hear her." Turning Alec slightly, he pointed across to a small balcony near the top of his sister's house. "See that window up there, to the right? That was my room. I used to sit there for hours at a time, just listening."

Alec pictured the restless grey-eyed boy Seregil must have been, chin propped on one hand as he listened for alien music seeping from the night air. "Is that when you heard them?"

Seregil's arm tightened around his shoulders. "Yes," he murmured, and for one brief moment his face looked as wistful as that lost child's. Before Alec could do more than register the emotion, however, Seregil was his old bantering self again. "I came to tell

you that the baths are prepared. Come down as soon as you're ready."

And with that he was gone.

Alec lingered a bit, listening, but heard only the familiar bustle of his fellow travelers settling in.

Beka declined a room in the main house in favor of a small side room in the barracks.

"I haven't seen a decent fortification since we got here," Mercalle grumbled, looking the place over.

"Makes you wonder what happened to those Bash'wai folks," Braknil observed. "Anyone could ride in and take the place."

"I'm no happier about it than you are, but it can't be helped," said Beka. "Get watch fires started, give the place a thorough inspection, and set guards at all entrances. We'll rotate everyone between guard duty here, escort detail for Klia, and free time. That ought to keep them from getting bored too quickly."

"I'll keep those off duty to standard city drill," said Mercalle. "No less than three in a group, old hands watching out for the new ones, and keep them close to home for the first few days until we see how warm our welcome really is. Judging by some of the Aurenfaie I saw today, there's likely to be a bit of chest thumping."

"Well said, Sergeant. Pass the word, all of you; if there is any trouble with the 'faie, Commander Klia doesn't want steel drawn unless life is about to be lost. Is that clear?"

"As spring rain, Captain," Sergeant Rhylin assured her. "It's better politics to take a punch than to give one."

Beka sighed. "Let's hope it never comes to that. We've got enough enemies back over the sea."

Entering the long main room of the barracks, she found Nyal stowing his modest pack next to one of the pallets.

"You're bunking in with us, then?" she asked, feeling another odd little flutter below her breastbone.

"Shouldn't I?" he asked, reaching uncertainly for his pack again.

From the corner of her eye she saw Kallas and Steb exchange knowing grins. "We still need you, of course," she replied tersely. "I'll have to consider how to assign you, now that we'll be splitting into details. Perhaps Lady Adzriel can find me another interpreter or two. We can't expect you to be everywhere at once, can we?"

"I shall do my best to be, nonetheless, Captain," he replied with a

wink. But his Smile faltered as he added, "I think it might be best if I don't attend the feast tonight, though. You and your people will be well looked after by the Bokthersans."

"Why not?" asked Beka, surprised. "You're living here in Adzriel's tupa. I'm sure she'd welcome you in her house."

The Ra'basi hesitated. "May we speak privately?"

Beka ushered him into her side room and closed the door. "What's the problem?"

"It is not the Bokthersans who would not welcome me, Captain, but the Akhendi. More specifically, their khirnari, Rhaish i Arlisandin. You see, Amali a Yassara and I were lovers for a time, before she married him."

The news sank in like a kick in the gut. What's the matter with me? I barely know the man! Beka thought, struggling to remain dispassionate. Instead, she suddenly recalled with merciless clarity how Nyal had kept his distance from Amali during the journey from Gedre when he had been so friendly with everyone else, and how he had faded into the background when her husband appeared at the Vhadasoori.

"Are you still in love with her?" She wished the words back as soon as she spoke them.

Nyal looked away with a sad, shy smile. "I regret the choice she made, and will always consider myself her friend."

Yes, then. Beka folded her arms and sighed. "It must have been uncomfortable—being thrown together again this way."

Nyal shrugged. "She and I—it was a long time ago, and most agreed that she made a wise choice. Still, her husband is jealous, the way old men are. It's best that I stay in tonight."

"Very well." On impulse, she laid a hand on his arm as he turned to go. "And thank you for telling me this."

"Oh, I think it would have been necessary sooner or later to say something," he murmured, and was gone.

Sakor's Flame, woman, are you losing your mind? Beka berated herself silently, pacing the tiny room. You barely know the man and you 're mooning over him like a jealous kitchen maid. Once this mission is over you'll never see him again.