Free Valdemar 06 - [Exile 02] - Exile’s Valor by Mercedes Lackey Page A

the glassworks’ bellows every free moment that they have. We’re loath to keep them down there once the weather begins to get significantly warmer, because work switches to the nighttime once it becomes hellish to keep the furnaces going at full heat in the hottest part of the day. But we also want them to feel they’re really being punished when the weather turns and all their friends are enjoying themselves outdoors again.”
    â€œPoor things!” she said, feeling rather sorry for them, seeing as she was in a similar situation with no hope for a reprieve.
    Talamir coughed again; this time it sounded a bit disapproving. “Selenay, do you have any notion how much the Crown’s treasury is going to have to pay the glassworkers for a new mirror? You could replace every horse in the Royal Guard with Ashkevron war stallions for less than the cost of that mirror. Personally, I think they’re getting off lightly.”
    â€œIf those mirrors cost so much, how on earth did the Crown manage to pay for all of them when they were first installed?” she asked, as the two of them, flanked by a couple of guards, made their way down the gallery that overlooked the snow-covered gardens.
    â€œIf the legends are correct, no one paid for them at all,” Talamir replied. “The Herald-Mages made them, supposedly. Just as whenever one was broken, the Herald-Mages fixed them.”
    â€œHow very convenient,” she said dryly. “Did the Herald-Mages fix plumbing, too? I’ve had an Artificer in my bathing room twice now, and that drip still isn’t fixed. When I was trying to sleep last night, that was all I could hear.”
    â€œSendar used to say he found it soothing,” Talamir said quietly.
    I am not my father, Selenay thought, and felt a surge of resentment as well as sadness. But she was not going to say it. “Just have someone send a different Artificer, please,” she replied instead. “If I have to move into my old rooms for a few days until it’s fixed, I’ve no objections. If I have to listen to that drip for many more nights, I’m going to go mad.”

    With classes canceled for the day, Alberich found himself with unexpected free time on his hands. In light of the frustration of pursuing inquiries to dead ends recently, he decided he had a good idea of how to fill some of it. At this point, all of his usual sources of information had run dry. It was time to find some new ones, but to do that, he would have to create new identities.
    What I am looking for is not going to be found around Exile’s Gate, he decided.
    It was with a distinct feeling of pleasure that he noted that Kantor had followed his thought, and had altered his course, heading, not for the Collegia, but for the Companion’s Bell. This was a prosperous tavern that played host to Heralds quite regularly—and to Alberich quite a bit more often than to most, although, if you had asked the staff, they would have said, truthfully, that they didn’t see him there very often.
    There was a secret room in the back of the stables where Herald Alberich would retire, and someone else would emerge, by way of a door that no more than a handful of people knew existed. In that room was a chest of disguises, which were apparently tended to by someone in the Bell, for no matter what state they were in when Alberich left them there, the next time he returned they would be clean—or at any rate, cleaner, since the apparent dirt and real stains were an integral and important part of some of them. Furthermore, any damage he’d done to them would be repaired, and the clothing neatly put away, back in the chest.
    He’d inherited that room and that chest from Herald Dethor, his predecessor as Weaponsmaster, and he’d put quite a bit of wear on the disguises he’d found there. Enough that it was time to do something about the situation, before he found himself literally