“It didn’t occur to me to do so, when the first one was brought to me,” she explained. “By the time others came, I was quite certain it was not a contagion spread by touch.”

“That’s not what the bluecoat we just met said,” Alec told her. “And some of the folk we met on the way treated us like we had plague.”

“I’m beginning to think it might be one,” she replied. “But you, young sir—you carried her with no thought of danger?”

“The same as you, Sister. We’ve encountered this before and I didn’t catch anything.”

She patted his arm. “You’ve good hearts, my lords, to stop for such a girl.”

“We’re all one under the Maker’s eye, Sister,” Alec replied.

“You’re a Dalnan?” she asked in surprise.

“Raised one.”

“Good! Not enough of us down here in the south. Those flame and moon worshipers could learn a thing or two from us. Maker’s Mercy, my lords.”

“And to you.”

They rode up through the deserted Harbor Way and through the Sea Market.

As they threaded their way through the poor neighborhood beyond, Alec turned sharply in his saddle, peering down a side street and reined his horse around.

“What is it?”

“I could swear I just saw Atre pass under a street lantern down there.”

Seregil shrugged. “His old Basket Street theater isn’t far from here.”

“What would he be doing back there?”

“Who knows? Come on.”

The Stag and Otter was shuttered for the night. They approached carefully, making sure not to be seen coming here in noble dress.

Entering the darkened kitchen, Seregil went to the broad mantel over the hearth and took down the large painted pitcher that stood in the center of it. Inside were two folded parchment packets, both sealed with wax that bore no emblem.

Alec shook his head. “More work! Just what we need.”

Upstairs they lit a few lamps. Seregil sat down on the couch and told Alec all he’d heard on the island.

“You think they tried to assassinate Klia?” Alec exclaimed. “By the Light, Seregil, how could Korathan not know? The news should have been all over the city!”

“Not if he didn’t want it to be. As vicegerent, he has to keep the peace and he doesn’t need any fuel being heaped on the fire of unrest he’s already contending with. I just can’t imagine Thero not knowing. It will be interesting to see what he has to say about it. But now to these.”

Alec leaned over Seregil’s shoulder to read with him as he opened each letter.

“Another bauble delivery,” Seregil said as he read the first one. Tossing it aside, he opened the second and showed it to Alec. “Just as I thought.”

“Someone wants us to burgle Malthus’s house?”