Except when something that required all of his attention was before him. Then he was the old Talamir again. It was the old Talamir that had appeared, unescorted, at the door of Alberich’s rooms. It was the old Talamir, alert and in possession of all of his wits and wiles, who heard him out, and examined the documents with great care. Alberich hoped—wildly, he knew, but stranger things had happened—that Talamir would recognize the cipher, even be able to read it a little. The odds were very much against it, but—well, ciphers and secret messages were not part of the training of a Karsite Cadet, and the denizens of the vile dens down near Exile’s Gate that he usually trafficked with were barely literate. Asking them to manage a cipher would be like asking a pig to dance on a tightrope.

“Well,” the Queen’s Own said, putting the pages down carefully. “I don’t know enough about ciphers to make any sense of this. In fact, there’s something we should consider, and that’s the possibility that this might not even be in Valdemaran.”

Curses. Oh, well.

“Actually,” Alberich said with extreme reluctance, “it probably is not. If consider we do that it was intended for someone in another land, in that language it would be. Which could be anything.”

“So we have two puzzles to crack; the cipher itself, and which language it’s in. Still—” Talamir rested his index finger along his upper lip, his eyes opaque with thought. “Still, we’re very much further on than we were before. If someone is going to this extreme to send messages in cipher, I think we can be pretty certain it isn’t just Guild secrets or messages to a mistress. I will need to take these to an expert, I think.”

“I should, the originals prefer to keep here,” Alberich ventured, wondering how Talamir would take that. “Evidence, they may become.”

“Oh, certainly!” Talamir waved his hand dismissively, as if the idea of taking the originals was out of the question. “I would rather you did, too. Myste can make copies for me to give to—” He hesitated a moment. “Well, forgive me, if I just tell you it is a fellow whose hobby is ciphers, one I’ve taken such problems to before this. Odd little chap, but solid and true, and you’d be surprised if you knew who he was. I won’t tell you his name, though, if you don’t mind.”

“Safer for him, if you do not,” Alberich agreed. “Secrets are secrets between two, in danger between three, and often lost between more than three.”

Talamir nodded, but with an air of assurance that he had been certain that Alberich would understand before he’d asked the question.