Read Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon for Free Online

the two babes, but Illia's old enough to help now. It's a good thing, too. Ever since Gherin learned to walk he's been trying to keep up with his foster brother. That Luthas has the gift of mischief. Kari found them halfway down to the river one morning."
    Seregil smiled. "Shades of things to come, I'd say, with you for a father."
    They chatted on for a while, exchanging news and stories as if this were some casual visit. Presently, however, Seregil turned to Beka.
    "I suppose you'd better tell me more. You say Klia's in charge of this delegation?"
    "Yes. Urgazhi Turma's been assigned as her honor guard."
    "But why Klia?" Alec asked. "She's the youngest."
    "A cynical person might say that makes her the most expendable," Micum remarked.
    "She or Korathan would be whom I'd choose, in any case," Seregil mused. "They're the smartest of the pack, they've proven
    themselves in battle, and they carry themselves with authority. I assume Torsin will go, along with a wizard or two?"
    "Lord Torsin is in Aurenen already. As for wizards, they're as hard to spare in the field as generals these days, so she's taking only Thero," Beka replied, and Seregil knew she was watching him for a reaction.
    And with good reason, he thought. Thero had succeeded him as Nysander's pupil after Seregil had failed in that capacity. They'd disliked one another on sight and bickered like jealous brothers for years. Yet they'd ended up in each other's debt after Mardus had kidnapped Thero and Alec. From what Alec had told him afterward, they'd kept each other alive through a horrific journey, long enough for Alec to escape before the final battle on that lonely stretch of Plenimaran coast. Nysander's death had laid their rivalry to rest, yet each remained a living reminder to the other of what had been lost.
    Seregil looked hopefully at Micum. "You're coming, aren't you?"
    Micum studied a hangnail. "Not invited. I'm just here to convince you to go. You'll have to make do with Beka this time out."
    "I see." Seregil pushed his dish aside. "Well, I'll give you my answer in the morning. Now, who's for a game of Sword and Coin? It's no fun playing with Alec anymore. He knows all my cheats."
    For a time Seregil was able to lose himself in the simple enjoyment of the game, the pleasure made all the more precious by the knowledge that this moment of peace was a fleeting one.
    He'd enjoyed their long respite. He often felt as if he'd stepped from his world into the one Alec had known before they'd met: a simpler life of hunting, wandering, and hard physical work. They'd found enough mischief to get into along the way to keep up their nightrunning skills, but mostly they'd done honest work.
    And made love. Seregil smiled down at his cards, thinking how many times he and Alec had lain tangled together in countless inns, by countless fires under the stars, or on the bed Micum was currently using as a seat. Or on the soft spring grass beneath the oaks down by the stream, or in the sweet hay of fall, or in the pool on the ridge, and once, floundering half-dressed in deep new snow under a reckless waxing moon that had broken their sleep for three nights running. Come to think of it, there weren't too many spots around here where the urge hadn't overtaken them one time or another.
    They'd come a long way from that first awkward kiss Alec had given him in Plenimar, but then, the boy had always been a fast learner.
    "Those must be some good cards you're holding," said Micum, giving him a quizzical look. "Care to show us a few? It's your turn."
    Seregil played a ten pip and Micum captured it, cackling triumphantly.
    Seregil watched his old friend with a mix of sadness and affection. Micum had been about Beka's age when they first met—a tall, amiable wanderer who'd happily joined Seregil in his adventures, if not in his bed. Now silver hairs outnumbered the red in his friend's thick hair and mustache, and in the stubble on his cheeks.
    Tirfaie, we call them: the short-lived