Leaving Alec to watch the back of the house, Seregil slipped away through the back garden and circled around to their original hiding spot across the street. There he hid the bottles they’d taken from Atre’s room in his saddlebags and hunkered down in the shadows of a silversmith’s shop to await Atre’s reaction to the surprise they’d staged for him.

The moon was sinking behind the clouds. Candles were lit inside the house, then one by one the windows went dark again as the occupants went to bed, and still no sign of Atre.

Perhaps he was spending the night elsewhere. They hadn’t seen who had come back, and Seregil hadn’t noticed Atre’s voice among the others.

Soon after, he heard Micum’s whispered “Luck in the shadows” from a nearby alleyway.

“And in the Light,” Seregil whispered back.

Big as he was, Micum scarcely made a sound as he materialized out of the shadows.

“How is Thero?” Seregil whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

“I don’t know. Valerius is caring for him personally, though. Did you find Illia’s ring?”

Seregil shook his head and Micum bit his lip in frustration. Clasping his friend’s shoulder, he put his lips close to Micum’s ear and caught him up on the night’s progress.

The stars were beginning to fade and their cloaks were damp with dew when they heard the loud rattle and jingle of a carriage approaching. It rounded the corner pulled by a fine matched pair of white Aurënfaie horses, and although Seregil couldn’t quite make out the escutcheon on the door, the horses alone, together with the glint of gilt on the carved dolphins gracing the four corners of its roof, were enough to tell him that this was one of Atre’s more affluent and high-placed admirers. There were loud sounds of laughter and merrymaking as the coachman reined the horses to a halt in front of the house and they could hear Atre making his farewells as he alighted on the pavement. He paused a moment as the carriage rolled off, looking up at the sky and stretching, then put his key to the lock and disappeared into the house.

Seregil gave Micum a crooked smile. “Here we go.”

Atre wasn’t particularly drunk. He made a point of always keeping his wits about him, even when he went out carousing. Young Marquise Wentira and her friends had been quite amusing in their cups, though, and very generous.