Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [2]
Seregil breathed the fragrant, herb-scented air and willed his heart to stop pounding. A few of the brown temple doves fluttered down to join them, cooing eagerly for a handout. On the other side of the wall, he heard their pursuers pound by, cursing the dogs and still thinking their quarry somewhere ahead.
“Cut that a bit close, didn’t we?” Alec pulled off his sweat-soaked mask and used it to bind Seregil’s hand.
The salt stung the raw skin and Seregil winced. “We’re going soft. Too much larking about. So, how the hell did you drop the thing?”
Alec pulled the brooch from inside his shirt. It was a delicate piece; a tiny crescent set with pearls. “It’s so small. I was trying to put it somewhere safe, so I wouldn’t—”
“Drop it?”
Before Alec could defend himself, a high-pitched voice called out, “You there! What do you think you’re doing? This is sacred ground!”
Seregil stood up, scattering the doves. A half-grown acolyte came hurrying toward them, his short brown robe whipping around his skinny legs.
It was force of habit, more than anything, that made Alec and Seregil both head for the wall. Before he could find purchase, however, Seregil felt something like an attack of bees shoot through the backs of his legs, cramping his muscles and halting him in his tracks. Alec let out a yelp and whirled around, slapping at his thighs and buttocks.
“Peace, brother,” Seregil gritted out as he faced down the outraged Dalnan. “We mean no harm.”
“Lord Seregil? Lord Alec?” The boy made them a hasty bow. “Forgive me! I didn’t realize you were here. There was an outcry just now and I took you for the thieves.”
“I guess you startled us as much as we did you,” Alec replied, with the full force of the country-bred guilelessness “Lord Alec” was known for.
Seregil smothered a grin as the acolyte laughed. Being a ya’shel—a half-breed—Alec still looked deceptively boyish at twenty. Somehow, all the evil and hardship he’d seen in his short life, most of it since meeting Seregil, had not dimmed his innocent glow. With those dark blue eyes and that golden hair, he could charm man or woman, old or young, with no more than a smile and few well-chosen words.
“I’m afraid we came straight on from the Lower City,” Seregil said, feigning chagrin as he brushed a hand over his questionable attire. “My friend here is in need of some spiritual solace, after the drubbing we took at the gaming houses. Lost the coats off our backs, as you can see, and saw a bit of fighting.”
“But what are you doing way back here?” asked the boy.
“Praying,” Alec replied quickly. “I wanted to see Valerius, but it’s so early I thought I’d meditate a bit until he was up.”
“Of course, my lord. I hope you’ll pardon my interruption. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Seregil watched him go, then raised an eyebrow at Alec. “You just lied to a priest.”
“So did you.”
“I lie to everyone. You’re the good Dalnan boy.”
“I haven’t been a good Dalnan boy since I met you. All the same…” Alec went to the shrine and softly sang some prayer, the picture of piety.
Seregil left him to it, steeling himself to face Valerius. He and the priest had both been Watchers, and had worked together many times over the years, but Seregil’s gut still tightened as he caught sight of the man striding toward them, his black beard and eyebrows noticeably bristling.
Valerius had been the high priest of Dalna in Rhíminee for four years now, but it hadn’t smoothed his temper. He went straight for Alec and gave him a sharp cuff on the ear.
“That’s for lying inside the precinct, you whelp!”
“Ow! Sorry,” Alec said humbly, clasping the side of his head.
Valerius knew better than to raise a hand to Seregil, but his expression was enough to make the smaller man take a step back. “All the barking and yelling that just disturbed my morning meditation would be your doing,