29 UNEXPECTED DEATH

Klia and the rest of the hunting party were already at breakfast by the time Alec reached the kitchen the next morning. Braknil's decuria had drawn the lucky straw, and Nyal was with them, chatting with Kheeta and Beka.

Heeding Nazien's advice, Klia had dressed in a military tunic and boots, a few Akhendi charms her only ornaments. Alec smiled to himself; in the soft light of the hearth, she looked like the carefree young soldier he'd first met beside a Cirna horse trader's corral.

"Have trouble finding your way out of bed again this morning, did you?" Beka chided good-naturedly, drawing a chuckle from a few of Braknil's riders, presumably those who'd been on sentry duty two nights earlier. Alec ignored her, giving his full attention to a plate of bread and sausage one of the cooks handed him. He'd made certain the balcony door had been tightly shut last night. "You should eat, my lady," Kheeta urged Klia, eyeing the barely touched plate balanced on her knee. "Old Nazien is likely to lead you halfway to Haman and back before dark."

"So I've been warned, but I'm afraid I haven't the stomach for food just yet," Klia replied, patting her belly ruefully. "It's a

sorry thing for a soldier to admit, but I must have drunk a bit past the point of wisdom last night. I still haven't mastered the wines of your country."

"I thought you looked poorly," said Beka. "Perhaps we should put off this hunt? I could send word to Nazien."

"It will take more than a sour stomach and sore head to make me miss this hunt," Klia said, nibbling a slice of apple without much enthusiasm. "Nazien is as good as won over, I'm certain of it. Time's running short and this day can buy us more goodwill than a week's debating."

She reached out and ran a finger through the collection of shatta dangling from Alec's quiver. "You've gamed with them, Alec. What do you say? Which will gain us the greatest favor: shooting very well or very poorly?"

"If we were at Rhiminee, I'd say the latter, my lady. Here, though, I'd say a show of skill is best."

"That would be best, if you want Nazien's respect," Nyal concurred.

Alec paused, considering his next question. "Are you sure it's wise for me to go? The Haman have made it clear that they don't like me any more than they do Seregil, and I wouldn't want to get in your way if you think they're coming around."

"Leave that to me," she replied. "You're a member of this delegation and a friend. Let them accommodate me for a change."

"You're also our best hunter," Beka added with a wink. "Let Emiel and his friends chew that one over!"

"How is Lord Torsin feeling this morning?" asked Nyal.

"Still asleep, I think," Klia replied. "I've ordered the servants not to disturb him. It's just as well, really. Another day's rest will do the poor fellow good."

Kheeta finished his meal and left, returning a short while later with news of the Hamans' arrival.

"Is Emiel i Moranthi with the khirnari today?" asked Klia.

"Yes, along with a dozen or so of his supporters," Kheeta told her. "But Nazien has brought along a number of older kin, too."

Klia exchanged a bemused glance with Beka and Alec. "Shoot well, my friends, and smile nicely."

Nazien i Hari and a score of Haman awaited them on horseback in the street. Their black-and-yellow sen'gai looked fiercely vivid against the hazy morning sky, like the warning colors of a hornet.

All carried bows, javelins, and swords. The quivers of the young bloods of Emiel's faction were heavy with shatta.

We 're outnumbered, Alec noted uneasily, wondering what Klia thought of this reception. A glance in Beka's direction told him she was having similar misgivings.

But Klia strode up to Nazien and clasped hands warmly with him.

Emiel sat his horse in a place of honor just behind his uncle, his expression carefully neutral. For the moment, at least, he seemed content to ignore Alec's presence.

Suits me fine, you arrogant bastard, just so long as you mind your manners, he thought, watching suspiciously as Emiel offered Klia his hand.

They were about to mount when the khirnari of Akhendi and several kinsmen came into view down the street, out for an early stroll. Amali was with him.

"Looks like the morning sickness is still with her," Beka remarked. "She's looking wan."

"It appears you'll have a pleasant day," Rhaish i Arlisandin called out, coming to greet Klia and the others. "I trust you rested well, Klia a Idrilain?"

"Well enough," Klia replied, looking at Amali with concern. "You're the one who looks weary, my dear. What brings you out at this hour?"

Amali clasped Klia's hands, smiling. "Oh, I wake with the sun these days, and it's such a pleasant time to be out." She cast a quick glance in the Haman's direction. "I trust you'll take care today. The hills can be dangerous—for those not used to them."

Nazien bristled noticeably. "I'm sure we will keep her safe."

"Of course you will," Rhaish agreed coolly. "Good hunting to you all."

A warning, perhaps? wondered Alec, listening to this odd exchange of pleasantries.

The Akhendi continued on their way, but he saw Amali cast one final look back.

Bokthersan servants brought out horses for Klia and her party. Once mounted, Alec found his position of rank threw him in next to Emiel. There was no avoiding him, it seemed. Emiel soon proved him right.

"Your companion is not joining us?" he asked.

"I think you know the answer to that already," Alec replied coldly.

"Just as well. He was never any hand with a bow. Blades, though—now that was another matter."

Alec forced a smile. "You're right. He's an able teacher, too. Perhaps you'd like to cross swords with me sometime in a friendly contest?"

The Haman's smirk widened. "I'd welcome the opportunity."

Nyal sidled his horse closer. "Even practice bouts are forbidden in the city. They fall under the proscription against violence." He gave the Haman a pointed look. "You of all people should know that."

Emiel reined his horse sharply away, followed by his companions.

Nyal watched them with evident amusement. "Touchy fellow, isn't he?"

Watching from an upstairs window, Seregil counted sen'gai unhappily. He hadn't liked the idea in the first place, and liked it even less seeing how outnumbered the Skalans were. Klia appeared unconcerned, laughing with Nazien and praising the horses.

You see it, too, don't you, tali? he thought, reading even at a distance Alec's attitude of quiet watchfulness.

The day ahead of him suddenly loomed very long indeed.

When the hunting party had ridden off at last, Seregil headed down to the bath chamber and found he had the place to himself.

"Shall I prepare a bath for you?" Olmis asked, rising from a stool in the corner.

"Yes, and as hot as you can make it." Keeping his still fading bruises secret had meant doing without proper baths for days. This man already knew his guilty secret, and had kept it, too.

Stripping down, Seregil slid into the hot, fragrant water and let it lull him as he floated limply just beneath the surface.

"You're looking much better this morning," Olmis observed, bringing him a rough sponge and soap.

"I'm feeling much better," Seregil said, wondering if he dared take the time for a proper massage. Before he could make up his mind, however, Thero rushed in. The normally fastidious wizard was unshaven and uncombed, his coat buttoned awry.

"Seregil, I need your help at once!" he said in Skalan, stopping just inside the doorway. "Lord Torsin has been found dead."

"Found?" Splashing up out of the tub, Seregil reached for a towel. "Found where?"

Thero's eyes widened perceptibly at the sight of Seregil's battered body, but thankfully he let it pass for the moment. "At the Vhadasoori. Some Bry'khans—"