cavalry.
He leaned down and kissed her, not caring if the sentries were watching. “Good hunting, beloved.”
“And to you, my love.”
Beka could feel his gaze on her as she walked away to gather her riders, but resisted the urge to look back.
D UKE Reltheus—a tall, striking man with silver-streaked hair and dark eyes—kept them fairly busy. Their first night on watch, Seregil scaled the back wall, but the house was too well guarded front and back.
“Looks like we’re going to have to get in by the front door,” he muttered.
“Hopefully our friend Selin can help us with that,” said Alec.
The duke’s house had only one main entrance, easily watched, and he came and went during the day at civilized hours over the next week—several times to the Palace, they noted with interest. He was often out in the evenings, as well—without his wife, Palmani, who was still in the days of her birthing confinement—visiting friends and attending Archduchess Alaya’s salon. Not quite the doting husband and father, he spent several evenings in the Street of Lights gambling houses, with a visit to the brothels here and there. From what they observed, his tastes ran solidly to women, including a fair-haired girl at their friend Eirual’s house.
Dressed as beggars or workmen, Seregil and Alec took shifts shadowing him. It was too risky to ingratiate themselves with any of the servants here in the city where they were known, so they had to content themselves with watching from a distance and awaiting their chance.
Silvermoon Street was the grandest avenue in the city, home to both the royal Palace and the villas of the mostprominent nobles. Alec happened to be on duty in his one-armed beggar’s garb when he saw a carriage leave and caught sight of the duke’s face at the open window. Instead of heading for the Street of Lights, however, the carriage went west.
It was an easy matter to follow. It had been another muggy day, and many nobles were out taking the air in carriages, on horseback, or on foot. The heavy traffic made for slow going.
Alec’s dirty, bandaged face and empty right sleeve drew a few disgusted or pitying looks, but little surprise, beggars being a common sight in all parts of the city. His hair was well hidden under a grimy head rag.
He nearly lost the duke when the carriage turned into Emerald Street. Alec narrowly missed being trampled by a band of drunken horsemen as he dodged across the street, managing to keep the carriage in sight until it turned in at the carved gate of one of the larger villas there, one they hadn’t seen Reltheus go to before.
The gates remained open but were guarded by several armed men in green livery. Alec waited a few minutes, then limped over to the open gate, holding out his wooden begging bowl. “Penny for a cripple, kind sirs?”
One of them took out a few pennies and tossed them into his bowl. “Go on now, boy.”
“Maker’s Mercy, sir. Who’s the master of this fine house?” Alec asked. “Does he have a heart of charity? Maybe a crust in the kitchen?”
“Marquis Kyrin can’t be bothered with the likes of you!” another guard told him. “Now get before I take my cudgel to you.”
“Bad luck to hit a beggar,” the kind one said.
“Worse luck to have the marquis find this creature hanging around the front door. Go on, boy, off with you!”
Satisfied, Alec made them a fawning bow, then limped away to take up his position across the avenue beneath a tree, waiting for it to get a bit darker to have a closer look. Kyrin had been mentioned in Princess Elani’s letter. Sitting on the ground, he set his bowl in front of him and began to rock slowly back and forth, droning his tale of woe.
“Maker’s Mercy, kind people, a penny for a cripple,” hewhined, keeping his gaze averted from any sharp-eyed acquaintances. Most people ignored him, but some paused to toss a coin or two in his bowl.
He wasn’t the only one begging among the rich; there
He leaned down and kissed her, not caring if the sentries were watching. “Good hunting, beloved.”
“And to you, my love.”
Beka could feel his gaze on her as she walked away to gather her riders, but resisted the urge to look back.
D UKE Reltheus—a tall, striking man with silver-streaked hair and dark eyes—kept them fairly busy. Their first night on watch, Seregil scaled the back wall, but the house was too well guarded front and back.
“Looks like we’re going to have to get in by the front door,” he muttered.
“Hopefully our friend Selin can help us with that,” said Alec.
The duke’s house had only one main entrance, easily watched, and he came and went during the day at civilized hours over the next week—several times to the Palace, they noted with interest. He was often out in the evenings, as well—without his wife, Palmani, who was still in the days of her birthing confinement—visiting friends and attending Archduchess Alaya’s salon. Not quite the doting husband and father, he spent several evenings in the Street of Lights gambling houses, with a visit to the brothels here and there. From what they observed, his tastes ran solidly to women, including a fair-haired girl at their friend Eirual’s house.
Dressed as beggars or workmen, Seregil and Alec took shifts shadowing him. It was too risky to ingratiate themselves with any of the servants here in the city where they were known, so they had to content themselves with watching from a distance and awaiting their chance.
Silvermoon Street was the grandest avenue in the city, home to both the royal Palace and the villas of the mostprominent nobles. Alec happened to be on duty in his one-armed beggar’s garb when he saw a carriage leave and caught sight of the duke’s face at the open window. Instead of heading for the Street of Lights, however, the carriage went west.
It was an easy matter to follow. It had been another muggy day, and many nobles were out taking the air in carriages, on horseback, or on foot. The heavy traffic made for slow going.
Alec’s dirty, bandaged face and empty right sleeve drew a few disgusted or pitying looks, but little surprise, beggars being a common sight in all parts of the city. His hair was well hidden under a grimy head rag.
He nearly lost the duke when the carriage turned into Emerald Street. Alec narrowly missed being trampled by a band of drunken horsemen as he dodged across the street, managing to keep the carriage in sight until it turned in at the carved gate of one of the larger villas there, one they hadn’t seen Reltheus go to before.
The gates remained open but were guarded by several armed men in green livery. Alec waited a few minutes, then limped over to the open gate, holding out his wooden begging bowl. “Penny for a cripple, kind sirs?”
One of them took out a few pennies and tossed them into his bowl. “Go on now, boy.”
“Maker’s Mercy, sir. Who’s the master of this fine house?” Alec asked. “Does he have a heart of charity? Maybe a crust in the kitchen?”
“Marquis Kyrin can’t be bothered with the likes of you!” another guard told him. “Now get before I take my cudgel to you.”
“Bad luck to hit a beggar,” the kind one said.
“Worse luck to have the marquis find this creature hanging around the front door. Go on, boy, off with you!”
Satisfied, Alec made them a fawning bow, then limped away to take up his position across the avenue beneath a tree, waiting for it to get a bit darker to have a closer look. Kyrin had been mentioned in Princess Elani’s letter. Sitting on the ground, he set his bowl in front of him and began to rock slowly back and forth, droning his tale of woe.
“Maker’s Mercy, kind people, a penny for a cripple,” hewhined, keeping his gaze averted from any sharp-eyed acquaintances. Most people ignored him, but some paused to toss a coin or two in his bowl.
He wasn’t the only one begging among the rich; there
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