“Korathan explained it to her, apparently in an effort to get her to leave the city. She refuses to go.”

“That could be exactly what the assassins are hoping for,” said Seregil. “She’s more vulnerable than ever out on the road, even with an armed escort.”

“You’re probably right. For now, she remains in Rhíminee, but in her quarters under heavy guard and a ready supply of food tasters.”

“I was afraid of this,” Seregil said with a sigh. “If the arrests haven’t stopped the killing, then something or somebody important was missed.”

“If they were using professional assassins, and I daresay they were, then they may still be under orders,” Thero replied.

“My informers inside the guild say that only Kormarin and Nerian were contracted.”

“Tit for tat, indeed,” said the wizard. “So who’s killing the others, and how?”

“We’ll keep our ears open, Thero, but we haven’t made much of a job of it so far.”

“That’s all?”

“For now. In the meantime, we’re going to keep hunting the ravens.”

Thero began to sputter but Alec said firmly, “We still have Myrhichia to avenge.”

Atre lit the candle in his dank little workroom and pulled a silver ring from his pocket. A pretty little bauble, he thought with a thin smile, and one he hadn’t really considered using. In fact, he’d forgotten all about it in all the fun of toying with the nobles, killing them off here and there as it suited him and enjoying the rising panic, until he recognized Alec and that Micum Cavish fellow during that near miss at the tenement. Humming to himself, he pulled an empty phial from the rack and dropped the ring in.

Chapter 38 - Grief

DESPITE Korathan’s continuing displeasure, Seregil and Alec were allowed to pay their respects at court the following morning. Elani sat with Alaya’s other relations by the old courtier’s bier in one of the great halls. All were dressed in rich black, with jewels of jet and onyx. Elani was dry-eyed as the mourners streamed past, but very pale. It was clear she hadn’t slept.

She gave them a sad smile as they reached her. “So kind of you to come. Alaya liked you both very much.”

“She was a great lady, Highness,” said Seregil.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Highness,” Alec added, looking down at the dead woman’s waxen visage. Alaya was dressed for court, and her hands were crossed in front of her, rings glittering on every finger, but none of that allayed the wreckage of sunken eyes and too-prominent bones.

“So much death this summer, and the whole war,” Elani murmured. “Grandmother Idrilain, and my aunt and uncle. And now this.”

Unable to offer any meaningful comfort, they stayed long enough to be polite, then bowed and took their leave.