Free Casket of Souls by Lynn Flewelling

one of the dolphin-shaped fire irons. “This has to stop. It’s breeding dangerous unrest. There have already been grain riots.”
    “I don’t suppose you’ve heard any more from Danos?” Stenmir asked Reltheus.
    There was that name again.
    The duke took a folded missive from his coat pocket and handed it to him. The others rose to read over his shoulder.
    “Commander Klia has Sakor’s luck, doesn’t she?” Tolin remarked, frowning.
    “So it’s always seemed,” Kyrin replied with a sigh. “It would be best if circumstance worked to our favor, but she seems to be especially blessed. Now, however, I think it’s time we went back to the ladies.”
    The others knocked the dottles from their pipes and followed him out, leaving Alec with nothing but the laughter of the women and a vague sense of dread. It appeared thisDanos was indeed their spy and that Reltheus and the others weren’t on Klia’s side. Or the queen’s, either.
    Alec was about to go back the way he’d come when he heard the marquise inviting her guests to come out onto the balcony to enjoy the night air. That room lay between him and the drainpipe, and the balcony was far too high to jump from without risking a broken ankle. Instead, he slipped in through the library window and pressed himself against the wall beside it. He could hear the women walking up and down the balcony, talking of the latest play at the Tirari. Mallia said something Alec didn’t quite catch.
    “I’ll ask him,” the marquise’s daughter replied, and Alec heard her coming his way. There was nowhere to hide except behind one of the long tapestries. It was a terrible hiding place under any circumstances, but especially in a brightly lit room, where the girl might notice the slight bulge in the fabric, or his broken beggar’s shoes visible beneath the lower edge. He didn’t dare risk taking a look, but could hear her moving about the room.
    “Father’s not here,” she called out at last. “I’ll go find him.”
    Alec heard the inner door open and shut. He waited a few breaths, then cautiously peered out from his hiding place. The other women remained on the balcony, making it impossible to leave.
    He leaned back against the wall again, resigning himself to a long wait. He wanted a look inside that locked cabinet.
    It was hot behind the tapestry, and dusty. As Lady Mallia went on about some other play just outside the window, Alec’s nose began to itch. He squeezed it between two fingers, hoping to kill the urge to sneeze, but that only made it worse. Still holding his nose, he pressed his other hand to his mouth and choked back a short succession of sneezes, nearly at the expense of his eardrums.
    And still the women talked on. His back began to ache from pressing himself as flat as he could against the wall behind him, and he could feel his overtaxed arm muscles beginning to stiffen up. Worse yet, he had to sneeze again.
    As he stood there wishing them all to Bilairy’s gate, the door opened again and he heard someone moving around theroom. Little by little, the room went dark and he heaved a silent sigh of relief. It must be a servant. A moment later the door closed again. Better yet, the women finally went indoors.
    As he sidled out from behind the tapestry, the shoulder of his shirt caught on something. He took out the lightstone and discovered a small door set into the wall at about eye level, with a tiny handle and a brass lock plate. The plate looked solid, but when Alec ran a sensitive fingertip around it, he discovered two tiny holes on either side of the keyhole, tamped with wax. This usually meant that a poisoned dart or spring lurked inside, waiting for the unwary burglar to tackle the workings of the lock. Standing to one side, he probed the lock at an angle with a small pick and heard the
snick
of the trap releasing. Two slender steel barbs shot out, five inches long—long enough to pierce the hand of an unwary thief. Their tips were coated in some