He found out the way he found out everything.
Someone told him.
Specifically: Serin Ashveil.
She had been exchanging letters with him — I had not known this. I had apparently underestimated the specific social gravity of Otto Voss, who had somehow, within six weeks of Serin entering the picture, developed a correspondence with her that I was only learning about because she mentioned it in passing at Sunday dinner.
"Otto writes very good letters," she said.
I looked at Zevran.
He looked at the table.
"You knew," I said.
"I suspected," he said.
"Since when," I said.
"Since she mentioned receiving a very thorough letter about Kaelthorn's best tea shops," he said.
"She's from Kaelthorn," I said. "She knows the tea shops."
"Yes," he said. "Otto knows she knows. He sent his personal
