“Oh, they were acting, all right!” Seregil snorted. “Atre got himself stabbed one night near Basket Street, long after he’d moved up here. Alec went to help him, and noticed traces of stage cosmetics along his hairline, even though the Crane was dark that night.”

“And Thero sensed magic on Brader at the tavern,” added Alec.

“Tall Brader!” Seregil exclaimed in disgust. “No wonder that swordsman looked familiar! And remember how he reacted when Thero asked for a strand of his daughter’s hair?”

“But Atre didn’t care,” Alec pointed out.

“Which only means he wasn’t afraid of being affected. What does that suggest?”

“That he’s the necromancer.”

“Right.” Seregil stabbed a finger at the map. “Look at the pattern again. The sleeping death started in the Lower City, and didn’t come up here until after Atre and his company moved to Basket Street. And what have the ravens avoided?”

Micum looked down at the map. “The Sea Market, the Harvest Market, the Noble Quarter …”

Seregil tapped impatiently in two places. “Basket Street, even though it should be in the swath they’ve been cutting, and the area around the Crane. Why? Because a wise bird doesn’t shit in its own nest.”

“That doesn’t explain Illia, or Myrhichia,” said Micum.

“Illia danced with him at Alec’s party!” gasped Kari.

Seregil felt another stab of guilt. “Yes. She must have seen all the people giving him trinkets and done the same. Myrhichia, too.”

“Bilairy’s Balls, I’ll slaughter the lot of them!” Micum snarled.

“That won’t help Illia,” Seregil said, clasping his friend’s shoulders. “We have to find out how they’re doing this, and—please, Illior—if there’s a way to undo it.”

“If?” Kari clutched Elsbet’s arm for support.

“I’m sorry, Kari, but it’s best to be honest with ourselves. Alec and I are going to burgle the Basket Street theater tonight. It would help if we knew what we were looking for, though.”

“I think I know,” Elsbet said softly. “The little silver filigree ring you gave her for her last birthday—I noticed it was gone the next day and scolded her for it. She said—” Tears slipped down her wan cheeks. “She said all the fine ladies were giving him things and begged me not to tell Mother or you.”

“But if he’s had it all this time, why hasn’t Illia fallen sick sooner?” asked Kari.

“We won’t know that until we find out what he does with the things he’s given,” Alec replied.

“I’m going with you,” said Micum.

“Can we count on you not to do anything rash?” asked Seregil. “With it being your daughter and all?”

“Will your hearts be any less broken than mine if she dies? Don’t worry. There’ll be no killing until I’ve gotten out of them how to save my girl.”