The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [116]
"This must hold the books," he said, dragging it out. He tried the lid, but it was locked.
Ulan bent and touched a fingertip to the brass faceplate of the large lock, and Ilar heard the click of the tumblers falling. Ulan smiled as he opened the lid and had Ilar lift out the three large tomes it held.
"Now, are these the one you saw?"
"Yes. This one with the red leather cover is the one he used most often." Ilar opened it and they saw that it was indeed written with normal letters, but arranged in such as fashion as to be total gibberish without the key to the code.
Ilar carried the books over to the chair under the lamp, and Ulan sat and paged through the red one to the picture of the rhekaro. In fact, there were several in what appeared to be a chapter devoted to their making. Other sections were illustrated with other creatures and objects, and intricate designs that Ilar could make no sense of.
"Well done, my dear fellow," Ulan exclaimed softly. "And now, for the others." He opened the slimmest of the three and nodded. "Ah yes. This is the one he showed me, when I last was here. It must be the least important, as it is written in plain Plenimaran. It speaks of the powers of the elixirs to be made from the rhekaro's essences, but no doubt it does not say how they are made. All the same, it should be most useful."
The last book appeared to be a journal. It, too, was written in code, but the script was haphazard and strayed across the pages at odd angles in places, interspersed with drawings of equipment and more of the incomprehensible designs.
"Now what?" Ilar looked nervously toward the door. What if Ahmol returned? Or Ilbana herself?
"We shall spend some hours here, enjoying the library while we wait for the house to settle," Ulan explained. "Then we shall hide these books beneath our cloaks and hope the guards do not decide to search us. Tomorrow we will take our leave and retire for a few days in my house by the sea."
"But what about Seregil?"
Ulan smiled. "I'm sure he can find me there." He patted the books. "And these shall be the bait for our trap."
"And then?"
"He was your prize once before. He will be again. Now, why don't you pour us some tea before it gets cold?"
Heart ablaze with hope, Ilar did not notice the old man regarding him with a mix of pity and disgust.
CHAPTER 25
Mixed Emotions
THE SUMPTUOUSLY DECORATED ship's cabin was the best accommodation Alec had seen since they'd left Bokthersa. Seregil, who had a taste for luxuries of any sort, sprawled across the bed at all hours like a big contented cat, and for the first time in a very long time it was just the two of them at night. No Sebrahn. No Rieser, who looked vaguely uncomfortable whenever they so much as clasped hands. Seregil was like a man dying of thirst, and Alec was the spring. After the tension of the past weeks, lovemaking was as much relief as pleasure for both of them.
On their second morning at sea, Rhal took one look at them over breakfast and burst out laughing, as did Nettles, who was eating with them in the captain's cabin. Alec had been amused to see that this one was decorated even more garishly than their own, but he wasn't amused now, sensing that the laughter was at his expense.
Seregil looked up from the runny grey porridge Tarmin had served up. "What's funny?"
"Look in the mirror, both of you," Rhal told him. "You've got matching love bruises on your necks."
"And you've been so quiet, too," said Micum. "We could hardly hear you in the forecastle."
Alec's face went hot to the roots of his hair as he pulled up the collar of his coat. That just made the others laugh harder, of course, all of them except Rieser, who kept his attention on his breakfast, expression carefully neutral. Seregil was clearly controlling himself with an effort; he couldn't care less what anyone thought, but he also knew how Alec hated it when things like this happened. Not that Alec was ashamed of their relationship--far from it--but his father had been a modest man, and