With some effort, he slung the man over Windrunner’s saddle and led the horse to a nearby Dalnan temple. It was late, but temples didn’t close, at least not a Dalnan one. It would only take a moment.

A young, brown-robed girl answered the bell and helped him carry the stricken man in.

“What have you brought me, young man?” asked the old priestess in charge.

“One stricken with the sleeping death, Sister.”

“Ah, another. Bring him into the sick room.”

“Another? You’ve seen more here in the Upper City?”

“Only a few.”

There were two younger boys and a man with the flattened features and slanted eyes of the god-touched laid out on clean pallets.

Leaving the drysian and her helpers to take care of the man, Alec bent over the boys. “This one’s gone,” he said softly, resting his hand on the chest of the smaller boy.

The drysian went to the child and pressed a finger to his wrist, then nodded sadly. “Astellus carry him gently. This one lasted longer than most, from what we’ve heard. Who knows about others left to die unnoticed in some hovel or tenement?”

“How many others have you seen here, besides these?”

“Two others. I think they must have made their way up from the harbor.”

“Sister, when these stricken ones come to you, do you inspect them closely?”

“We do, my lord, looking for any kind of wound.”

“And you find nothing?”

“Nothing unusual, just the occasional bruises or cuts, but not on all.”

He thought a moment, trying to decide what Seregil would ask if he were here. “No markings?”

“What sort of markings?”

“Any kind. Guild marks, tattoos, brands.”

“No, my lord, nothing like that.”

“Are there more of these sick people at any of the other temples in the Upper City?” asked Alec, still kneeling by the dead boy.

“No, but as I said, with us being so close to the Harbor Way, it’s us who finds them. The main temple down in Grampus Street is where most of them are being taken, as there’s more found on that side of Trade Street.”

Only a few streets separated Trade from some of the lowest stews in Rhiminee. He took out his gambling winnings and gave them to her. “Thank you, Sister, and Maker’s Mercy.”

Her eyes widened at the weight of the purse. “Maker’s Mercy to you, too, kind sir.”

The whole household was awake when Brader arrived with the cart.

“What happened?” Merina demanded in alarm, following behind him as Brader carried Atre to his room.

“A foolish accident on my part,” Atre gasped. He made no objection as she helped him out of his clothes and into his ornate bed. “I found myself missing some of our former haunts-”

Merina exchanged a doubtful look with her husband. “More fool you, then. What would we do without you?”

“We’ll be doing without him for a few days, at least,” Brader told her, glowering down at Atre, then at the anxious

people hovering at the door. “Go on to bed, all of you. I’ll sit with him for a while.”

He closed the door firmly after them and pulled a chair up to the bedside. “What in the name of Soru were you thinking, going down there without me?”

“You were off with your family, weren’t you?” Atre’s tone bordered on accusing, and not for the first time. Atre had never married, never cared enough about any woman to do so, though he’d had no end of romantic conquests. If it had been up to him, Brader would have done the same. “Someone has to go. We’re running low again, you know.”

“It’s getting dangerous. You’re taking too many chances.”

“What choice do we have, my friend? Unless…”

Brader clenched his fists. “No!”

Atre gave a maddening little shrug. “Well then. Fetch me a draught, will you, please?”

Brader went to the wardrobe and took out the leather elixir box, selecting a milky phial at random.

Breaking the seal, Atre drank it down greedily, hand pressed to his bandaged belly. “Ah, that eases it a bit. Another.”

“You drank just yesterday. It’s too soon for so much.”

“Not with a wound!” the other man snapped, holding out his hand.

“You’ll still have to pretend to be hurt for a few days,” he reminded him as he went to fetch him another bottle.

“Acting is so much easier when you’re not in pain,” Atre shot back.

“Too easy, perhaps,” Brader muttered. “At least take warning from this.”

At Reltheus’s villa, Seregil and the rest of their party from the Three Dragons settled down over wine and pipes in the smaller salon.

Reltheus disappeared for a moment and came back without his coat on, he noted with interest. Seregil sat laughing over his wine with the others for some time, then announced a full bladder and walked a bit unsteadily from the room.

Reltheus’s study lay just down the corridor. The coat was

thrown carelessly over a chair and the pilfered letter was in the desk, concealed under a stack of other correspondence. Seregil hid behind the study door to read it, so as to be able to hear anyone approaching, and see who it was through the crack in the door. The letter was dated yesterday.

Your Majesty, Dearest Aunt, I made sacrifices at the Sakor Temple for your success and safety yesterday. I hope the Immortal will continue to smile upon you.

It has been raining here, so Master Seneus has held our practices in the smaller ballroom. He praises my sword work and says I’m continuing to improve. I’m sure I will learn even faster when you return as my teacher. No one is your match. I miss your guidance so much!

Seregil smiled to himself. He’d seen a great many young ladies’ letters, and it was clear that Elani was working up to something her aunt was not going to like. Seregil already suspected what that might be. He read on.

Your Lily had eight fine pups two days ago, all healthy and nursing well. She’s a wonderful mother. Duke Reltheus has already asked me to ask you if he might have one of them when they are old enough to give away. I told him you would be back by then and he could ask you himself. I hope you will. The duke has shown me such kindness and I can’t help thinking of him as a sort of uncle. He’s already planning a grand autumn hunt to welcome you home. The deer on his estate are thick this year. He was so very pleased to hear that you speak well of his son, Captain Danos.

Seregil wondered what Elani would think of the news that her swain had been suspected of treason.

Duke Reltheus reads me all of Danos’s letters and it fills me with such excitement! I can’t wait until I can be tested on the field of battle myself. It has been so difficult this summer, being praised for my skills, but having no chance to prove my mettle against a real enemy! As much as I pray for victory to

come soon, in my heart I worry that I will have no chance to see battle before it’s all over. I visit the tombs of our ancestors to give offerings, especially to Queen Gherilain the First.

I have a favor to ask of you, dear Aunt. As I wrote to you in my last letter, I have had occasion to come to know Lord Alec and our kinsman, Lord Seregil and can’t help wondering at your refusal to appoint them to my entourage. They are such good men. Alec is the best archer I have ever seen, even better than my own master of archery, and he has taught me so much! I beg you to reconsider.

Seregil frowned. The last thing he wanted was to return to court, and couldn’t imagine Alec wanting to, either. There was probably little to fear, though. Phoria might tolerate them being friends with her heir, but court appointments seemed very unlikely. It would be so awkward finding a way to refuse, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt the girl’s feelings. If the wind did seem to be blowing that way when Phoria got back, he’d have to embroil himself in some suitable scandal and disgrace himself long enough to be banished from the royal presence for a while. Bothersome, but easily arranged.