Glimpses (15 page)

“Very well, then.” He unlaced his leather
trousers and pushed them and his linen down with a graceful
flourish. The crowd exploded in applause and laughter. Those
closest to Alec slapped him on the back. Seregil climbed off the
chair and stood grinning, hands on hips, as his trousers were
inspected, then took them back and dressed as carefully as if he
was in front of his looking glass at home, smoothing out every
wrinkle. Money was changing hands around him and it was clear that
public sentiment was on his side, for whatever reason.

Taking his place again, he raised his chin
and grinned across the gaming table at his opponent. “Shall we
continue, your grace?”

More applause erupted at the duke’s
expense.

Caught, Koris had no choice but to finish—and
lose—the game. With gritted teeth his paid off the wager, swept his
stones back into their fancy embroidered bag, and strode off with
all the dignity he could muster.

Seregil looked around at his admirers.
“Next?”

The woman who’d championed the wager took the
chair Koris had vacated and poured her stones into the polished
tray in front of her. They were made of blue opal, and she held one
up, showing him Illior’s crescent inlaid in silver on the back of
it. “The Lightbringer will have to decide between us, my lord, for
I’ve been known to have the Immortal’s favor, as well. Or would you
like to inspect my clothing for charms first?”

“A tempting offer, Marquise, but your honor
is above reproach.”

“You’re very gallant, Lord Seregil, but now
I’m disappointed,” she said with a teasing smile. “Well, you had
your chance. Shall we play?”

They were still arranging their stones for
the first round when a young page made his way through the crowd
and whispered something to Alec. He, in turn, leaned down and
whispered in Seregil’s ear, “We have to go.”

Seregil quickly made his apologies to the
disappointed noblewoman and the crowd and scooped up his
stones.

“What is it?” he asked as they hurried
out.

“I don’t know, but it must be important.
Kepi’s outside, asking for us, and he wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t
important, would he?”

“Most likely not.”

They found the boy waiting for them on the
pavement, under the watchful eye of the doorman, who clearly
disapproved of such an unsightly character on the Street.

Seregil and Alec hustled him quickly out of
sight into the shadows beyond the reach of the street lanterns.

“What is it?” Seregil demanded.

“That actor fellow, Atre the Mycenian? He’s a
friend of yours, ain’t he?”

“How in the world did you know that?”

Kepi just winked and grinned.

“Yes, he’s a friend of ours. What of it?”

“Well, he got hisself knifed tonight.”

“Bilairy’s balls! Where?” asked Seregil.

“Down at the waterfront, back of the Skulpin.
I just heard of it and I come straight up to tell you. Your man at
the house told me were you was.”

“The Skulpin?” said Alec. “What was he doing
down there?” The gambling house was just outside of the respectable
commerce district of the Lower City, and catered mostly to locals
and sea faring men. There were plenty of cutpurses, bawds, and
footpads about at this time of night, ready to relieve the unwary
of their winnings.

“Is he alive?”

“He was when my friend heard about it. I went
to your house and they told me you were here. I came straight
on.”

“Good lad.” Seregil took half a dozen coppers
from his purse and gave them to the boy. Kepi made him another
ill-formed bow and took off at a run, darting between horses and
carriages. He was soon out of sight among the evening crowd.

***

They made most of the long ride down to the
Lower City at a gallop and found the actor still alive and groaning
on a couch in an poorly lit back room of the gambling den. He was
dressed uncharacteristically plainly without a jewel on him—an
apparent attempt to fit in with his surroundings, perhaps, or he’d
been robbed.

A small crowd of ne’er do wells and doxies
were peering in from the doorway, but parted for Alec and Seregil,
who had come armed.

A drysian was with Atre, tending to a wound
on his belly. The actor was white-faced and looked frightened, but
at least he was conscious.

“What happened?” Seregil asked, kneeling down
beside him and taking the man’s hand.

“Oh, my lords!” Atre gasped, clinging to
Seregil’s hand with both of his, which were sticky with blood. “How
did you know?”

“Never mind that. What in Bilairy’s name
happened to you?”

“It was a girl. She said she was hurt, and
when I tried to help her—look what she did!”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” the drysian
scoffed as he began to bandage the wound. “Hardly more than a
scratch!”

“And took your purse, I suppose,” said Alec.
It was a common ploy among the girl cutpurses. “What are you doing
alone in a place like this?”

“Oh, you know—” Atre was too pale to blush
but he looked rather ashamed of himself.

Seregil gave him a knowing look.

“Got tired of the pampered nobles and came
back here, looking for a bit of rougher fun?” Brader growled as he
strode into the room and stood over Atre. Apparently he’d gotten
word, as well.

The actor looked away, saying nothing.

“This is no place for the likes of you,” the
drysian scolded. “Stay up on your heights and find your fun there.
I have better things to do than patch up you silly thrill
seekers.”

“I will, Brother. By the Maker, I will!” Atre
mumbled, then looked up imploringly at Seregil. “Please, my lord,
don’t leave me here!”

“Of course not,” Seregil assured him, then
turned to Alec. “Go ask the master of the house to hire us a
carriage, will you?”

“No need,” said Brader. “Teibo is coming with
the cart.”

The drysian finished with the bandage and
straightened up. “There, that should hold your guts in well enough.
See that you keep the wound clean and it should be healed in a week
or so, if a bit sore.”

“I have to be on stage tomorrow!”

“That’s why you have an understudy,” Brader
said, handing the healer some silver.

The drysian nodded to them and took his
leave.

“Oh, Calieus will be pleased!” the young
actor groaned. He’d only recently taken on the young Skalan actor.
“He hangs over me like a carrion crow, just waiting for something
like this to happen.”

Seregil chuckled. “It’s his job, isn’t it?
And I really don’t think you can blame this on your understudy.” He
washed his hands with the water left in the pitcher the healer had
used and stood up. “Honestly, if you’d wanted to come someplace
like this, you should have asked us. We’d have come with you, and
kept you out of trouble like this.”

“Very kind of you, my lord, but I think my
friend here should take the healer’s advice,” Brader said.

Just then they heard the clatter of a cart
arriving. Brader lifted Atre in his arms as if he weighed no more
than a child and carried him out. Old Zell had come with the boy
and clucked his tongue as Brader placed the wounded man on some
folded blankets in the back of the cart.

“Really, I think a carriage would be more
comfortable,” said Seregil. “I’ll happily pay.”

“No need, my lord,” Brader said gruffly.
“With respect, we take care of our own.” He climbed in beside Atre
and Teibo snapped the reins over the glossy white mare’s back and
set off.

“That was a bit rude!” Alec muttered. “We
might just as well have stayed at the gambling house.”

“Strange sort of place for anyone who loves
luxury as much as our actor friend to turn up, don’t you think?”
asked Seregil.

“You think he was lying about why he was down
here?”

“Perhaps not, but does Atre strike you as the
sort of man who would stop to help a street urchin on a dark
street?”

“Not really.”

Seregil gazed thoughtfully after the
cart.

“So long as we’re down here, I’d like to look
in at that temple and see if that boy is still there,” said Alec,
glad to see that their horses hadn’t been stolen while they were
inside.

“At this hour?”

“A temple doesn’t close. At least not a
Dalnan one. You can go home if you want. I won’t be long.”

Seregil swung up into the saddle and gathered
Cynril’s reins. “Then I might as well tag along.”

They hadn’t gone far when Alec said softly,
“Did you enjoy your performance back there at the Three
Dragons?”

“My amazing winning streak, you mean?”
Seregil said with a wink.

“No.”

“Ah, the stripping naked in front of a
hundred or so noblemen and women part of the evening. ‘Enjoy’ isn’t
the word I’d use, but it was satisfyingly useful.”

“Useful!”

“Talí, before I met you, Lord Seregil was
known for things like that. Well, not usually in such a public
place, perhaps—”

“Perhaps?” Alec raised a skeptical eyebrow at
that.

“At parties, mostly.”

“So you did that a lot?”

“Now and then, just to keep up my reputation.
Mostly it was things like getting other young nobles into trouble
stealing things like public statues or bluecoats’ horses while we
were drunk, slumming in borrowed clothes, or daring each other to
jump off Widow’s Cliff into the sea. You should try that. Very
invigorating—if you live.”

That won him a smile and a soft laugh. “And
carrying on with actors, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes. And actresses.”

“Am I bad for your reputation, now that we’re
spending so much time back in the city?”

Seregil laughed. “I’d say we dispelled any
rumors of that tonight, wouldn’t you? I was lucky, though.”

“You did win a lot of money.”

“Yes, but I was thinking more of Koris’s
search of my person.”

Alec laughed. “What was so lucky about that?
He had you standing naked on a chair.”

Seregil winked at him as they passed through
the glow of a street lantern. “Yes, but his search stopped short of
the most obvious hiding place.”

“The most—?” Alec gave him a questioning
look, then realization dawned and it was replaced by one of shock.
“Bilairy’s balls, Seregil!”

“Close.” Seregil grinned. He loved still
being able to make Alec blush.

The most difficult part of this book was
deciding which images would go on the pages. The tremendous
outpouring of fan art and the pure, overwhelming support of the
fans for Lynn was amazing. This collection of short stories was an
effort of love and affection from Lynn to her fans. Because of
spacing issues, not all of the artwork was able to be placed in the
stories they were created for still we felt it was only right that
these pieces of artwork should be featured as well. The effort
given by these artists—both amateur and professional—cannot be
measured. Gratitude seems so inadequate as a tribute to their
work.

I have never worked with someone as gracious
and as caring for her fans as Lynn. I wish I could fully express to
you the affection she has for her readers. Thank you for your
contributions and most of all, thank you for making this book
possible.

Reece Notley

Three Crow Press

Postscript: Lynn is probably one of the
sweetest, coolest people in California if not the world. It was a
fantastic experience to work with her and even more of a blast to
share a meal or two with her.

Thank you Lynn for letting me frolic in your
playground.

Adriane Zonker

Angela Sopo

Anna Davidson

Anna Sommerer

Bernadette Joseco

Bettina Körner