Shadows Return Read Free

familiar street and not finding the Cockerel Inn there. They’d had a new inn built in its place. The Stag and Otter-a tongue-in-cheek reference to the animal forms they’d each taken during Nysander’s intrinsic nature spell-had been open for business for three months, and had already established a good name for its beer, if not the food. The Cockerel’s cook, old Thryis, had been well-known on this side of the city for her excellent fare.
    To rebuild on the same spot had seemed like a good idea when they’d come back to Rhíminee a year and a half ago. Now Alec thought it had been a mistake. Some of the foundation stones were still blackened-a stark reminder of the night Seregil had burned the old inn as a funeral pyre for their murdered friends.
    “You two are up and about early today,” Ema called as they passed the open kitchen door.
    Broadly pregnant, she held her apron hem carefully under the bulge of her belly as she bent to check on the contents of a kettle bubbling on its hook over the kitchen hearth.
    “Never came home last night at all,” Alec said with a wink. Mistress Ema was blond and pretty and cheerful, and Alec had warmed to her at once, even though her cooking skills left much to be desired.
    “You wicked things! But you’ll be hungry, I bet. I’ve got some cakes rising for breakfast, and some salt cod and onions on the boil.”
    “Don’t trouble yourself. Just tea,” Seregil replied curtly, striding on. He hated salt cod and onions and had told her that a dozen times or more. The kitchen reeked of it.
    “I’ll come down for some cakes later,” Alec put in quickly as he took the tea tray. He’d have taken the fish, too, but Seregil wouldn’t allow the smelly stuff in their rooms.
    Magyana-the last remaining wizard at the Orлska House who called Seregil friend-had found the couple who ran the place. The husband, Tomin, was some kin of hers, from a town south of Ardinlee. Alec liked them well enough, but Seregil was still keeping his distance, and not just because of the food. Even with everything new right down to the pot hooks, neither of them could set foot in the place without expecting to hear Thryis snapping out orders to Cilla in the kitchen, or Diomis’s laughter as he bounced his grandson Luthas on his knee by the hearth. The child was the only survivor of that night, aside from Seregil’s cat, and was now safely fostered with the Cavishes at Watermead. Alec still caught a glimpse of Seregil’s guilt every time they saw the child; he’d never stopped blaming himself for the massacre.
     
    The stink of the fish gave way to the sweetly cloying smell of fresh wood and plaster as Alec followed Seregil upstairs. The Cockerel had been as settled as an old ship, steeped with years of cook smoke and soap boiling and lives lived. This place would smell new for years.
    The third-floor rooms they shared were well hidden, just as they had been at the Cockerel.
    Magyana had obscured the door that led to the secret stair, and warded those stairs just as they had been at the Cockerel. As with the old place, the wards on the stairs were keyed not to incinerate cats.
    Seregil whispered the passwords for the current wards as he reached each one. He still insisted on changing them frequently, though it was unlikely anyone would come hunting them now.
    Fortunately, Alec had a good memory. This month they were the Aurлnfaie words for the phases of the moon.
    “Aurathra.”
    “Morinth.”
    “Selethrir.”
    “Tilentha.”
    Ruetha was sitting at the top of the stairs, busy cleaning her white ruff and paws. She ignored them until Seregil opened the door, then bounded through with her plumed tail held high.
    These new rooms were pleasant enough. The windows were clean enough to see through, the newly purchased furniture didn’t smell of must and smoke, and the new white marble fireplace certainly drew better. All the same, the whitewashed walls lacked the patina gained from years of smoke and