“I’ll certainly pay attention to see if Malthus says anything about it, but he is a friend, and I don’t want to get him into any trouble.”

“But you wouldn’t want anyone to think you were colluding with him, either, would you?” Reltheus asked mildly.

Now the gloves were coming off. “Why do you think anyone would think that?” Seregil asked in alarm that was not entirely feigned. If Reltheus turned on him and Alec, he certainly had sway at court.

Reltheus patted his arm again. “I’m sure you’ll prove your loyalty to Skala, Seregil. If you do hear anything compromising, it would be best if you brought it directly to me.”

“Not Prince Korathan?”

Seregil caught a fleeting look of exasperation in the other man’s eyes. Reltheus was quite the dissembler. “No, I think it will be better if you come to me.”

“Very well. I’m sure you know best,” Seregil replied.

They went back inside to find that Alec had arrived.

“And how is your distressed friend?” asked Reltheus, pouring wine for him.

“He’ll live,” Alec said with a smile, catching Seregil’s eye. “Got himself into a bit of trouble in a rough neighborhood. He’s gone home now.”

He and Seregil stayed long enough for Alec to have a few games, and it was closer to dawn than midnight when they finally took their leave. The wind had come up, swirling the thickening mist and blowing out street lanterns. Even here in the Noble Quarter, the lamplighters had turned in for the night. It was the sort of night footpads crept into the finer streets, looking for an easy mark in the darkness.

“Atre’s all right?” asked Seregil.

“Minor knife wound from a girl cutpurse he tried to help, according to him. Brader came and fetched him.”

“How did he know where Atre was?”

“I didn’t think to ask,” Alec admitted. “Atre must have sent a messenger.”

“No matter, I suppose, so long as he isn’t mortally wounded.”

“Speaking of mortally wounded, I found a man with the sleeping death on the way back. I took him to a temple, and there were more.”

“Up here? How many?”

“Five in all. Tonight it was a god-touched young man, and—two little boys.”

A small but clear stab of heartache slipped along his bond to Seregil. He reined in close beside Alec. “Is it because they’re mostly children, talí?”

“Yes.” It was a hoarse whisper, and Seregil felt that tingle of pain again. Alec had always been good with children. Having Sebrahn for so short a time and then losing him had left a deeper wound than Alec would admit. Though he wouldn’t talk about it, every so often something would bring the sadness to the surface. It happened less often now, but the pain was still just as deep.