hidden in the gloom. It had been a long time since he'd last slept under this roof, in this room. Must be all of thirty years, and more. He wondered if Gaunt knew this had once been his bedroom, when he was a boy. Probably not. Just one of life's little ironies no doubt. There was no one left now who knew that Adam Stalker had been born a DeFerrier, and that this house had once been his home. Until he ran away, sickened at what his family had become. They were all dead now; parents, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles. All gone. The DeFerriers were no more, and Adam Stalker was happy with the name he had made for himself.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Get some sleep. There was a lot to be done, come the morning.
Graham Dorimant paced up and down in his room, and wondered what to do for the best. William was dead, and the Guards were no nearer finding his killer. And all too soon that slimy little creep Bowman would be angling for William's seat in Council. The man was barely cold, and already the vultures were gathering. All right, somebody had to take his place, but it didn't have to be Bowman. And it wouldn't be, as long as Dorimant had any say in the matter.
He stopped pacing, and frowned thoughtfully. There was no guarantee it would be any of his business. He'd worked for William, and William was dead. Katherine might well decide she had no more use for him, and bring in her own advisers. Dorimant bit his lip uncertainly. Losing the job wasn't in itself a problem; even after his divorce he should have more than enough money left to last him out. But to give up the excitement of politics, to go back to the empty-headed social whirl of endless parties at fashionable places, the childish fads and games and intrigues;
Maybe Lord Hightower could offer him some kind of position; the old man wanted to get more deeply involved in politics, and he'd need an adviser he could trust; Yes. That might be it. Lord Roderik wasn't anything like the man William had been, but he was honest and sincere, and that was rare enough these days. He'd have a word with Hightower in the morning. Assuming William's killer didn't strike again, and murder everyone in their beds. Dorimant glanced nervously at his door. It was securely locked and bolted, with a chair jammed up against it for good measure. He was safe enough. The two Guards were just downstairs, keeping watch. After the Chandler Lane business a simple assassin shouldn't give them too much trouble.
He frowned uncertainly. Maybe he should have told them about Visage, and what she'd seen. He'd wanted to, but she had begged him not to. Now both he and she were in the position of having lied to the Guard. If they ever found out; He remembered Hawk's cold, scarred face, and shivered suddenly. He didn't care, he told himself defiantly. He'd done the right thing. Visage had come to him for help, and he had given it. Nothing else mattered.
He hadn't realized before just how important Visage was to him.
He sighed, and sank into the chair by the bed. He knew he ought to go to bed and get some rest, but he wasn't sleepy. It was hard for him to believe that William was really gone. He'd admired the man for so long, and been his friend for such a short time; And now, here he was helping to conceal evidence that might help find William's killer.
<em>I'm sorry, William. But I think I love her, and I can't risk her being hurt.</em>
<em></em>
Lord and Lady Hightower got ready for bed in silence. Lord Roderik sat in the chair by the bed and watched his wife brush her hair before the dressing table mirror. When fully unbound, her long white hair hung halfway down her back. Roderik had always liked to watch her brush her hair, a simple intimate moment she shared with no one but him. He wondered wistfully when her hair had turned white. He couldn't remember. When they were first married her hair had been a beautiful shade of honey yellow, but that had been long ago, when he was still a Captain. With something like shock, Roderik realized that that had been almost thirty years ago. Thirty years; Where had the time gone?
Elaine looked into the mirror and caught him watching her. She smiled, but he looked quickly away. She put down her brush, and turned around to face him. She was wearing the white silk nightdress he'd bought her for her last birthday. She looked very lovely, and very defenseless.
<em>Don't ask me, Elaine. Please. I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone;</em>
'What is it, Rod?' she said quietly. 'Something's been bothering you for months now. Why won't you tell me about it?'
'Nothing to tell,' said Roderik gruffly.
'Bull,' said his wife. 'I haven't known you all these years without being able to tell when something's gnawing at you. Is it Paul? I thought you were finally getting over his death. You should never have gone off on those stupid campaigns, the werewolf hunts. I should never have let you go.'
'They helped;'
'Did they? Every time some fool jumped at his own shadow and shouted 'werewolf!' you went racing off to track it down. And how many did you find, out of all those dozens of hunts? One. Just one. That was why the King made you resign, wasn't it? Not just because you'd reached the retirement age, but because you were never there when he needed you!'
'Don't,' whispered Roderik, squeezing his eyes shut. Elaine rose quickly out of her chair and hurried over to kneel beside him. She put a hand on his arm, and he reached blindly across to squeeze it tightly.
'It's all right, my dear,' said Elaine softly. 'I'm not angry with you, I'm just worried. Worried about you. You've been so; different lately.'
'Different?' Roderik opened his eyes and looked at her uncertainly. 'How do you mean, different?'
'Oh, I don't know; moody, irritable, easily upset. I'm not blind, you know. And there've been other things;'
'Elaine;'
'Once a month, you go off on your own. You don't come back for days on end, and when you do, you won't tell me where you've been or what you've been doing.'
'I have my reasons,' said Roderik gruffly.
'Yes,' said Elaine, 'I think you do. You mustn't feel badly about it. Rod. When a man gets to your age I know that sometimes they, well, start to feel insecure about; themselves. I just want you to know that I don't mind, as long as you come home to me.'
'You don't mind?' said Roderik slowly. 'Elaine, what are you talking about?'
'I don't mind that you have another woman,' said Elaine steadily. 'You shouldn't look so astonished, my dear. It wasn't that difficult to work out. You have a mistress. It really doesn't matter.'
Roderik stood up, took his wife by the shoulders and made her stand up, facing him. He tried to say something, and couldn't. He took her in his arms and held her tightly. 'Elaine, my dear, my love. I promise you I don't have another woman. You're the only woman I ever wanted, the only woman I've ever loved. I promise you; there's never been anyone in my life but you, and there never will be.'
'Then where have you been going all these months?'
Roderik sighed, and held her away from him so that he could look at her. 'I can't tell you, Elaine. Just believe me when I say I don't go because I want to, I go because I have to. It's important.'
'You mean it's; political?'
'In a way. I can't talk about it, Elaine. I can't.'
'Very well, my dear.' Elaine leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. 'Tell me about it when you can. Now let's go to bed. It's been a long day.'
'I think I'll sit up for a while. I'm not sleepy. You go to bed. I won't be long.'
Elaine nodded, and turned away to pull back the sheet. She didn't see the tears that glistened in Roderik's eyes for a moment. When she looked at him again, having first settled herself comfortably in bed, he was sitting on the chair, staring at nothing.
'Rod;'
'Yes?'
'Who do you think killed William?'
'I don't know. I can't even see how he was killed, never mind who or why.'
'Are we in any danger?'
'I shouldn't think so. Gaunt is on guard now; nothing will get by him. And there's always the two Guards downstairs. They're proficient enough at the simple things, I suppose. There's nothing for you to worry about, my
