Alec nudged the one Seregil had stabbed in the neck. “Guild assassins?”

“That would be my guess.” Seregil picked up one of the fallen garrotes. It was made from thin, flexible steel wire with a small wooden handle at each end. “Yes, from the looks of this, I’d say they were professionals.”

Keeping an ear out for bluecoats, they made a quick search of the bodies, but neither man carried so much as a belt purse. It was too dark to look for guild marks, but chances were there wouldn’t be any; the Rhíminee guild was cagier about such things than some. The lack of any identification and possessions was telling in itself.

Leaving them for the Scavengers, they rode for home.

“I wonder who set them on us?” Alec said as soon as they closed the front door behind them.

“I can think of two,” Seregil croaked, leading him to the kitchen. “Reltheus may have seen me spying at Elani’s today, although I don’t know how. He certainly knew where we’d be tonight. These assassin bastards probably followed us from there.” He paused. “And then there’s Malthus.”

“But he’s our friend!” Despite all his training and all the things they’d been through since they’d met, Alec still had some of his native innocence intact. The sign of a good heart, Seregil supposed, and usually he admired Alec for it, but in situations like this it could get a person killed.

“Queen-making might trump friendship, don’t you think?” In the kitchen he lit a candle from the banked coals on the hearth, filled a basin with water from the barrel by the door, then went to the cupboard where the simples were stored. “Interesting that General Sarien took an interest in me tonight. Even patted me on the shoulder. If Malthus’s cabal considers me a threat, then he could have been signaling one of the assassins, concealed in the crowd.”

“They could just as well have attacked me when I was alone tonight,” Alec noted.

“I don’t think you were the target,” said Seregil, sitting down beside Alec to clean and tend his wound. “Which would mean that Malthus believed me when I told him you weren’t involved.” He paused and shook his head. “Perhaps I tipped my hand too soon, speaking with him.”

Alec winced as Seregil sponged the blood away. “Or he knows you set his house on fire,” he said, only half joking.

“I doubt that. But we can’t afford to trust anyone now.”

“Maybe not. What are we going to do?”

Seregil pulled the garrote from inside his coat. “Send this and a heavy purse to one of my less savory connections.”