“She died,” Alec said tersely, and Thero was surprised at the anger that lay just below the surface of Alec’s restrained good manners.

“She was a good friend,” Seregil said smoothing the moment over. “She passed away recently.”

“I am sorry. We must drink to her memory.”

A toast was raised and Seregil tactfully steered the conversation in another direction. As skilled as Alec had become at playing a role, the sadness stayed in his eyes for some time.

“I’m fascinated by Skalan magic, Lord Thero!” Atre enthused over the apple tart. “Is it true that your powers come from having some other blood mixed with yours somehow?”

“Yes,” Thero replied, rather surprised at the question. Anyone should know that. “Aurenfaie.”

“Atre hasn’t been in Skala very long,” Alec explained.

“He’s from the northlands, like me. No one knows much about Oreska magic there.”

“What sort of magic do you practice, my lord?” asked young Teibo, the brother of the young woman next to him.

“Perhaps Thero would favor us with a demonstration?” said Seregil, giving him a wink.

“Magic! Magic!” the three young children cried, clapping their hands.

Thero smiled as they watched him with big eyes. While he didn’t appreciate being made to perform for pampered noblewomen, he’d come to like amusing children during the long days in Aurenen.

“Let’s see.” Cupping his hands over a leftover slice of bread, he concentrated on the form of a tiny dog and released it to run around the table and sniff at the delighted children’s fingers. Then he levitated the dessert plates, sending them into a complex swirling dance above their heads.

“Those are my best dishes!” the tavern keeper called out nervously, but the rest of the crowd erupted into applause. He brought the plates down again, carefully setting each back in its original place.

“How wonderful!” Merina exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek. Brader didn’t seem particularly surprised.

“Do another!” the little girl cried excitedly.

“Now, Ela, don’t pester our guest,” Brader chided.

“One more,” said Thero, aware that many around the room were watching to see what he’d do next. If he wasn’t careful, he’d develop a reputation for frivolity. “May I have a strand of your pretty red hair, miss?” he asked, meaning to turn it into a ring for her.

Brader clasped his daughter’s hand as she went to pull out a strand. “That’s enough now. We don’t want to tax the good wizard’s patience.”

For a moment the big man looked almost frightened.

“My friend is still superstitious after all our time in the south,” Atre apologized for him. Smiling, he plucked a strand of his own auburn hair and handed it to Thero across the table. “Here, you can use this.”

Thero took it and for an instant he felt another fleeting

wisp of that strange sensation. The strand of hair felt cold between his fingers. But with everyone looking on expectantly there was no way to examine it more closely. Instead, he wrapped it around the tip of his little finger, then hid it behind his other hand and murmured the spell. The hair transformed into a tiny ring of braided gold, which he took from his fingertip and presented to Ela with a flourish, glancing quickly at her father. This didn’t seem to bother him.

Atre hoped the others couldn’t see him sweating. He hated wizards and their prying eyes. Luckily this one wore the robes of his Oreska House, so Atre had seen him from the wings and recognized what he was. He wasn’t always so lucky.

He’d managed to keep his distance from the man at Alec’s party, and Kylith’s wake; now it was all he could do to maintain the protective shield around himself and Brader and still remain in the conversation. He hadn’t had any elixir in days, but Brader had drunk one only yesterday. He prayed that the scent of it or whatever it was that wizards sensed was faint. However, he’d seen something in this wizard’s expression when they were introduced that warned him that the man might suspect something.

“Something wrong, Thero?” Alec asked as they settled into the hired carriage and headed for Wheel Street. “I thought you were enjoying yourself?”

“I did. But there’s something odd about those actors.”

Seregil raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“There’s a whiff of magic there. Do you know anything about that?”

“Magic? No. Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t.”

“What kind of magic?” asked Alec.

“That I’m not sure of.” Thero didn’t like it, but hadn’t sensed any threat from either man. Whatever it was, the magic was working only on them. “Do they have any enemies here?”

“None that I know of,” Seregil replied. “Though I’m sure

the other companies in the city aren’t happy with the competition.”

Thero settled back against the cool leather seat, not entirely satisfied. “I wouldn’t let Elani near them again, if I were you. You don’t want anything rubbing off on her.”

“She’s met him twice now,” Alec noted. “You didn’t feel anything bad around her, did you?”

“No, quite the opposite. The court wizard takes good care of her. All the same, better to err on the side of caution.”

Seregil nodded. “Do you think someone means the actors harm? How serious is this?”

“It was very faint,” Thero replied. “Perhaps something passing away.”

“Certainly nothing that’s affected their luck,” Alec observed. “Did you see that brooch Elani gave Atre?”

“A nice bauble for his collection,” Seregil replied. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone given so many gifts.”

It was late when Seregil and Alec arrived back at Wheel Street but Runcer met them with the news that “that boy” was in the kitchen again, waiting for them.

Seregil chuckled. “Ah, the poor thing must be hungry. It’s rather like having a stray cat for a pet.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Runcer said, carefully neutral on the subject.

“You can go to bed now. Alec and I are in for the night.”

“Very good, my lord.”

They found Kepi curled up asleep by the banked hearth. Seregil shook him gently by the shoulder and nearly got himself knifed for his trouble as Kepi woke expecting who knew what.

He blinked, apparently surprised to find Seregil gripping his wrist. “Sorry, m’lord. You startled me.”

“My mistake. I assume you have some news for us?”

“I do, if you ain’t already heard it. That Kyrin fellow you had me and me friends watchin’? He’s dead.”

“What killed him?”

“Don’t know, but he’s dead, all right. I seen through a

window him all laid out with coins on his eyes, and women cryin’ over him.”

“Any sign of drysians?” asked Alec.

“Not that I seen and I watched fer a while, figurin’ you’d want to know.”

Seregil paid the boy and sent him off to keep watch through the night.

“Kyrin?” Alec exclaimed as they climbed the stairs.

“If Laneus was murdered, perhaps this is a reprisal. But what in the name of Bilairy is killing them? Not one of them has eaten at the other side’s table before they died. If it is poison, then they’re hiring professionals. I think we should go out, Alec, and do a little gossip collecting.”

Gossip spread quickly and it was soon common knowledge that Kyrin had been found dead in an arbor in his own garden, without a mark on him, or any clear sign of poison or magic, according to the high-ranking drysian who’d been called in. Apparently he’d just dropped dead like the others.

“Kylith, Laneus, Tolin, Alarhichia, and now Kyrin?” muttered Seregil as they rode home. “All cabal members, except Kylith, and Kyrin seemed to suspect her. And no sign of what killed any of them.”

“You really don’t think it was just age with Laneus and Kylith, at least? And Kyrin wasn’t young, either.”

“Too many deaths in one small circle in such quick succession, Alec, and not their wives, husbands, children, and so forth. It stinks of treachery.”