managed to fool the servants by keeping out of their way as much as possible. When he did come in contact with them, it was usually only at meals-times when the servants' attention was occupied by the food and the serving of it, not in looking closely at their master's brother.
The first two public appearances — token things, really- had gone off without a hitch. Fortunately there had been no parties, nothing involving people who knew Damir well and would have a chance to speak with Kyle at length and up close. If only Damir would return in time for the Midsummer Festival, all would be well.
Traditionally, Braedon's Midsummer Festival was a time of good-natured cheer and banter. Deveren, though, had now been with the thieves long enough to know that it was also a prime opportunity for crime. But even the thieves of Braedon seemed to get into the joyful spirit of things. He knew of no violent crimes that had been perpetrated during the event over the past years. A great many thefts, yes, but no murders or even attacks.
This year, he mused darkly, staring into his goblet of wine, could well be different. There had been one attempt on his life. There ought to be more. The very lack of a second attempt at murder had Deveren unsettled. There could only be one reason-he was no longer deemed a threat. And that was actually even a more frightening thought. It meant that whoever had tried to kill him now felt it was no longer necessary to remove him-that the would-be killer had found another means to his goal.
The rat.
Deveren suppressed a shudder. If one of his thieves was trafficking in that sort of dark magic, then Deveren knew he was right to be afraid.
Who was it? Freylis? Khem, who had kept to himself and whom Deveren didn't know well? Someone else?
He took a gulp of the wine. It didn't help.
'Your pardon, Lord Larath,' came the voice of Millia, the cook's young daughter. 'But… there's someone come to see you.'
'Who is it?' asked Deveren, tensing.
The girl frowned. 'It's… it's a child, sir.' Deveren smothered a grin at the slightly superior tone of voice. Millia was a child herself, a mere ten years of age. 'She says she comes from the Blesser of Health with news.'
Hope flooded through Deveren. 'Very good, Millia. Send her in to the library and I'll speak with her there. No doubt,' he added for the benefit of Millia, Kyle, and other ears which might be listening, 'she brings a cure for those nasty headaches I've been having.'
A few moments later, Millia showed Allika to the library. It was all Deveren could do not to gape openly at the change wrought by just two days in the Blesser's charge.
She was clothed in a simple but clean brown dress, probably loaned from one of Vervain's tenders. Her face was clean, showing Deveren for the first time how white and pink her skin was. Her shortcropped black hair had been combed into obedience, and gleamed. On her feet were small brown boots, and her back was straight. Her eyes sparkled with delight and she rushed into Deveren's arms, hugging him.
'Don't I look pretty?' she crowed immodestly.
'Little Squirrel, you look beautiful,' he told her truthfully, planting a kiss on shiny black hair that smelled of herbs and sunlight.
She grinned, and it warmed Deveren's heart to see the impish sparkle in her eyes again. He'd feared that her laughter and sense of play had burned to ashes along with her beloved doll, but clearly that was not the case. 'Vervain has been taking good care of you.'
'She's nice,' agreed Allika readily. 'She's tired, though. She stays up late and gets up early. Got black circles round her eyes.'
'I don't doubt it,' said Deveren.
'But she says to tell you that she's got good news. She says,' and Allika thought carefully before continuing, 'she says, Tell Deveren that I believe I have perfected the tinc- tincture-but I will need to test it on someone. Ask Deveren if he knows of anyone who would be willing to undergo such a test. I don't think it will be harmful, even if it doesn't work.' That's what she said.'
And Deveren was certain it was, word for word. He was silent for a moment, thinking. Allika waited patiently. Deveren again marveled at the sight of her, remembering the angry, violent, squalling creature he had lugged by sheer physical force to the Healer's temple; recalled her rage, her pain when she tried to apologize Suddenly Deveren's thoughts flashed back to that dreadful day of Lorinda's funeral. He saw again Pedric standing in front of him, screaming angrily, froth on his lips and hate in his eyes. The poisonous, cruel words sounded again in his ears.
To the Nightlands with Lorinda! She's dead, Deveren, dead, and the dead are nothing but dirt. There's no purity in rot. Gods, Dev, couldn't you smell her as we brought the coffin by?… There's nothing left of her now but decaying flesh… and the hope that I can somehow do to her killers what they did to her. So you can just take your wine and your talk and leave me alone!
He remembered with growing horror how Pedric had at first gentled at Deveren's sympathy, then doubled over in pain to emerge twice as bitter. And he remembered the youth fidgeting and scratching…
Deveren had been blinded by the memory of his own aching loss. He had thought Pedric merely suffering from grief and the natural anger at the violent crime. Now he realized that something far darker and dreadfully unnatural had been at work.
'Dear gods,' he said softly. Poor Pedric…
'What?' asked Allika anxiously.
'Nothing you need to worry about, sweeting. Go back to Vervain and tell her I will be there tonight with… with someone to test her tincture.'
It was with a lie that Deveren coaxed Pedric into the streets and out of his drunken isolation. A lie that Pedric believed because he wanted to believe it; believed because the curse that raged through him believed that everyone was as filled with hatred as he was.
I know who murdered Lorinda. I know where we can find them. And I will help you kill them. A feral light had come into Pedric's aged-looking, unshaved face; illuminated his haunted eyes, red-rimmed with drink and sleepless nights.
Yes, he had answered. Let us kill them. Words that Deveren had never thought to hear emerge from Pedric's cultured throat. And off they had gone, into the quiet darkness of the night. Pedric had laughed wildly, eager for blood and revenge. It was only the knowledge that Pedric was not truly responsible for his thoughts and actions that kept Deveren's heart from breaking for his friend.
They made their way through the city, and Pedric slowed as Deveren led him to the temple of Health. He stopped in front of the little gate and turned to stare suspiciously at Deveren. 'At Health's temple?' he asked, incredulous.
Please let this work, Deveren said to himself. Aloud, he said, 'They are injured. They will be easy prey.' He stretched his mouth into a smile. 'We can subdue them with our bare hands.'
That temptation proved to be too much for Pedric. He smiled himself, and inwardly Deveren drew back from the simple evil in that smile. How close we all are to evil, he thought. How terribly, dreadfully close. 'Come,' he said, inviting Pedric to go in front of him.
He waited until Pedric had opened the door to the temple proper before bringing his hands down hard on the back of the young man's head. Pedric groaned and fell forward.
At once Vervain was there with a light. 'Get him on the table!' she cried.
Pedric was not unconscious, and fought as Deveren tried to shove him onto the table. Again Deveren dealt him a hard blow, this time to the temple. The younger man stumbled and Deveren managed to get him onto the table. 'Hurry!' he called to Vervain. 'I won't be able to hold him!'
Swiftly, efficiently, Vervain was there. Deveren crawled onto the table himself, trying to pin the writhing young man down with legs, arms, elbows, anything that would work. The heel of Pedric's hand came up and smashed Deveren in the mouth. Deveren tasted blood, but did not loose his grip. Vervain poured a swallow of her herbal tincture into Pedric's snarling mouth, saying as she did so, 'Take care, Deveren! It will make him worse before it makes him well!'
What was she talking about? Deveren thought wildly.
