War Maid's choice wg-4

by David Weber

  No, the reason for his current unhappiness had nothing to do with his cover or its demands. It was more…fundamental than that.

  He swung the bale down from his shoulder and into the lean-to riverside warehouse where it would be out of the wet, and stood for a moment under the same roof, surrounded by the scents of rain, riverwater, and dry hay as he massaged the small of his back and gazed out into the gauzy veils of mist while he thought.

  It had sounded forthright enough when Baron Cassan described his mission to him. Not without risk, but risk was part of the job, as far as Warshoe was concerned. And a part of him was looking forward to the opportunity to correct his failure seven years ago when Sir Trianal Bowmaster had been so disobliging as to move at just the very wrong instant. Darnas Warshoe didn’t miss very many arbalest shots, and he’d always taken that failure a bit personally. Assassinating Prince Yurokhas didn’t bother him, either. His loyalty to the Sothoii crown had disappeared along with his commission, and if Baron Cassan wanted the Prince dead, that was reason enough for Warshoe. Nor had he objected to the Baron’s insistence that the two of them had to die in the course of an open battle with the ghouls. Battlefields provided admirable cover for an assassin plying his trade, after all.

  But there was something in the air, something Baron Cassan hadn’t warned him about. He didn’t know what it was, yet the sensitive cat whiskers of a successful assassin quivered incessantly.

  It was just his nerves, he told himself. Only a perfectly understandable anxiety over the scale of this assignment. That was all it was.

  He told himself that very firmly…and he never believed it at all.

  ***

  “It’s going well,” Malahk Sahrdohr said with undisguised satisfaction.

  With the court’s removal from Sothofalas, Sahrdohr was able to move about the city more freely. Unlike the Prime Councilor, the Chancellor of the Exchequer had remained in the capital where he could stay in touch with the manifold details of his responsibilities. Sahrdohr had responsibilities enough of his own in his disguise as one of Whalandys Shaftmaster’s senior clerks, but even the Exchequer’s tempo had dropped with the King’s departure. “Mahrahk Firearrow” had much more free time than he’d had earlier in the year, and the exodus of everyone who’d possibly been able to get out of Sothofalas had reduced the sheer congestion enough to make it far easier for him to drop out of sight without some busybody’s noticing. At the moment, he and Master Varnaythus sat once again in Varnaythus’ warded working chamber, watching the senior wizard’s gramerhain.

  “It appears to be going well,” Varnaythus corrected him, but even his tone was more judicious than disagreeing, the voice of a conscientious man refusing to succumb to overconfidence.

  “I think it’s more than just appearances,” Sahrdohr said, respectfully but firmly, and raised his left hand, ticking off points on its fingers with his right index finger as he made them.

  “Arthnar’s men are on their way-they’ve already passed through Nachfalas without anyone noticing and linked up with those horses someone ‘stole’ from Cassan’s herds,” he said, and Varnaythus nodded.

  The Fire Oar’s assassins weren’t the very best quality armsmen he’d ever seen, but they were tough, individually competent, and about as unscrupulous as they came. Even better, Arthnar had managed to retain an entire mercenary company of Spearmen who’d been too eager for work to worry much over what their new employer wanted them to do. That company provided better than two thirds of his total manpower, under its own officers, which gave it a much greater degree of cohesion and experience working as a unit than Varnaythus had allowed himself to hope for when he’d hatched the original plan. They’d passed through Nachfalas in groups of no more than a half-dozen, small enough not to draw attention to themselves…especially when Baron Cassan had taken some pains to see to it that they wouldn’t. Now they’d reassembled with their “stolen” mounts and were on their way to Chergor, and Arthnar’s hiring agents had successfully convinced them they’d been hired by the Purple Lords, exactly as planned.

  “Second,” Sahrdohr ticked off his next point, “Bahzell, Walsharno, Vaijon, Trianal, and Yurokhas are all on the Ghoul Moor where Anshakar and the others can get at them. And just as an added attraction, Prince Arsham’s with them, as well.” The younger wizard smiled coldly. “Killing him’s likely to destabilize the succession in Navahk, and that can’t help the stability of this Northern Confederation of Bahnak’s. And, if we’re lucky, we might even get Tharanalalknarthas, too, which would be a much heavier blow to Kilthan than he’d want to admit to anyone.”

  Varnaythus nodded again. Anshakar and his two companions were already cautiously moving their massed army of ghouls into position. Even the three of them found controlling that many ghouls difficult, but they were managing the task quite nicely, between their own more than natural powers and the sheer terror they’d instilled in their new worshippers.

  “Third, Borandas has clearly decided to support Cassan.”

  “That might be putting it a bit too strongly,” Varnaythus pointed out. Sahrdohr cocked an eyebrow at him, and the older wizard shrugged. “I admit he’s decided to support Thorandas’ marriage to Shairnayith, and that’s a major plus. But we still can’t be positive which way he’s going to jump when Cassan makes his move. Thorandas and Bronzehelm are both primed to push him into jumping Cassan’s way, but even the two of them together may not be able to overcome his common sense at the critical moment, and I’d be happier if we could keep a closer eye on Halthan.” He grimaced. “I’m not happy having Brayahs back home to muck things up, especially when I can’t be certain he won’t pick up on our scrying spells.”

  “Granted.” Sahrdohr nodded. “But the mere fact that Borandas has agreed to the betrothal ties him to Cassan in everyone else’s eyes, and all the indications are that Tellian’s partisans are already taking that into their calculations. If the entire Kingdom looks like going up in flames, who’s going to believe his shift wasn’t orchestrated ahead of time as part of whatever Cassan’s up to, however hard he denies it?” the younger wizard shook his head. “No, if Arthnar’s men pull this off, Borandas isn’t going to have much choice but to back his son’s new father-in-law, especially if Tellian and his faction are saddled with responsibility for the King’s assassination. Brayahs would have a hard time undoing that even if he figured out that you’ve been meddling with Bronzehelm’s mind.”

  He paused, eyebrow still arched, until Varnaythus nodded back to him. The older wizard remained uneasy over the possibility that Brayahs might realize someone was using wizardry to manipulate the Great Council’s members. If he did come to that conclusion, the logical thing for him to do, as one of the King’s trusted mage investigators, would be to warn Markhos, and the fact that he was a wind-walker made him just the man to do it. The last thing they needed was for the King and his personal guard to take additional precautions or even withdraw entirely from Chergor to the safety of Balthar. Fortunately, Varnaythus had learned and deduced enough about mage talents to construct a trap spell barrier around Chergor which he was reasonably confident would kill even a wind-walker if he tried to cross it. Un fortunately, he was only reasonably confident, since there’d never been any opportunity to test the underlying theory upon which it was based.

  “Fourth,” Sahrdohr went on after a moment, continuing his count, “Tellian is going to be at Chergor when Arthnar’s men attack after all.” He smiled unpleasantly. “I really thought he’d spend longer at home with his wife after being away so much of the summer. It’s a pity that attentiveness to duty of his isn’t going to be better rewarded.”

  He contemplated the four extended fingers of his left hand for a moment longer, then leaned back in his comfortable chair and raised both hands, palm uppermost.

  “I’ll admit it’s unlikely we’re going to run the board and succeed everywhere,” he said, “but we really only have to succeed partially to accomplish what They sent us here to do. And there�
�s still all that marvelous potential where the Purple Lords are concerned, after Kilthan and his canal cut off their entire economy at the knees!” He shook his head. “Even granting all the things that can still go wrong, the odds are heavily on our side, Varnaythus.”

  “And if someone on the other side knows what They’re doing-or what They have us doing, at any rate?” Varnaythus challenged.

  “If Tomanak or any of the others realized what was happening, They’d have already taken steps to stop us,” Sahrdohr said confidently. “Because, frankly, by this point, I don’t see anything They could do to prevent our basic strategy from biting Them right on the arse. There just isn’t enough time for anyone on the other side to adjust their positions enough to stop us before we actually hit them.”

  “Probably not,” Varnaythus conceded. “On the other hand, I suspect Jerghar, Paratha, and Dahlaha thought that right up to the last minute the last time, too. I know we don’t have people running off in all directions at once the way those three managed, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still come apart on us.”

  “No,” Sahrdohr agreed. “But in a worst-case situation, there’s still the karsalhain.” He shrugged. “Coming out into the open with the art may be a last resort, but at least we can still guarantee that Markhos, Tellian, and everyone else in Chergor dies, whatever else happens. It won’t be as neat, and it won’t be as precisely targeted as we wanted, but it may actually work out even better, especially if Borandas and the wind riders decide Cassan was behind it. They won’t have any choice but to move against him if they think he’s been hobnobbing with Carnadosans, Varnaythus, and Yeraghor won’t have any choice but to back him, because they’ve been joined at the hip for so long no one would believe he hadn’t known exactly what Cassan was up to all along. That gives us a brand-new Time of Troubles, and there’s no telling how many fish we could land out of waters that troubled!”

  Varnaythus was forced to nod again, although he dearly hoped to avoid using the karsalhain. Someone like Wencit of Rum was entirely too likely to be able to track that sort of working back to its caster. It would probably take him quite a while, but one thing wild wizards had plenty of was time, and if he did succeed, the result could be decidedly fatal for the caster in question.

  At least you haven’t done a single thing to attract Wencit’s attention back to the Wind Plain yet, he reminded himself. And Sahrdohr’s right; the karsalhain is definitely a “last resort”…and one it doesn’t look like we’re going to need. Not when not a single one of them so much as suspects what’s coming at them.

  ***

  “Shahana?”

  Shahana Lillinarafressa sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. It was pitch black outside the windows of her austerely appointed sleeping chamber in the Quaysar temple, but the chamber itself was filled with gentle, silvery illumination. There might not be any moon in the heavens over Quaysar, but there was one-or at least the light of one-in Shahana’s bedroom, flowing from the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman standing in her doorway. The Quaysar Voice was slender and quite tall, and she kept herself physically fit, yet she was also in her forties, and her hair was just touched with the first strands of frost.

  “Yes?” Shahana rubbed her eyes again, grateful that the Voice had decided to call the Mother’s light rather than carry a lit lamp with her. Being awakened in the middle of the night was bad enough without having bright light blasting into her darkness-accustomed eyes.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you.” The Voice smiled crookedly as if she’d been able to read Shahana’s thoughts. Which, the arm conceded, she might very well have managed to do. Some of the Voices could read thoughts, after all.

  “I assume you wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been necessary,” Shahana said.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” the Voice agreed. “You have to leave for Kalatha. Now, I’m afraid.”

  “Now?” Shahana repeated. “You mean as in right now, in the middle of the night?” Her tone made it clear she wasn’t complaining, merely making certain she’d understood correctly, and the Voice nodded. “May I ask why I’m leaving for Kalatha?”

  “You can ask, but I can’t tell you,” the Voice said wryly, and this time the arm’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I would if I knew,” the Voice continued, “but I’m afraid She didn’t tell me, either.” She shrugged. “I got the impression it has something to do with young Leeana and that whole business about her marrying Bahzell, but it was only an impression, Shahana. I wouldn’t depend too heavily on it, if I were you.”

  “It’s not like Her to be quite that vague,” Shahana said, and the Voice snorted.

  “I’ve been listening to Her for over twelve years now, Shahana, and I’ve discovered She’s never vague. When she seems to’ve been, it usually turns out we simply didn’t know enough about what was going on-then-to realize She was actually being quite specific. Unfortunately, in this case, I don’t have a clue what She has in mind.”

  “Well,” Shahana said philosophically, climbing out of bed and reaching for her clothing, “I suppose we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Good afternoon, Master Brayahs,” the armsman in the crimson and silver of House Daggeraxe said.

  “Good afternoon, Sergeant. I’d like to see Baron Borandas, please.”

  The sergeant outside the closed door considered Brayahs Daggeraxe thoughtfully. There’d been a time when Brayahs had been one of Borandas’ most trusted advisers, and the sergeant knew he was still extremely close to the baron and his baroness. But he also knew Brayahs had been chosen as one of the King’s magi, with his oath given to the Crown first and Halthar second, and that imposed certain constraints.

  “Your pardon, Master Brayahs,” the sergeant said, “but the Baron is conferring with Sir Dahlnar. Perhaps it would be better if you came back later.”

  “I realize he’s meeting with Sir Dahlnar,” Brayahs replied, returning his regard steadily. “In fact, I really need to speak to both of them. Please announce me and ask if they can see me now.”

  The sergeant stood thinking for another moment, then made his decision. Baron Borandas valued judgment in his armsmen, and he expected his senior noncoms to use that judgment.

  “Wait here, please,” he said, He turned, knocked once on the closed door, and then opened it and stepped through it, leaving Brayahs with the rest of his three-man detachment in the hallway.

  He was gone for only a few seconds before the door opened once again.

  “The Baron says he’ll be most pleased to see you, Master Brayahs,” the sergeant said with a respectful bow.

  “Thank you, Sergeant.”

  Brayahs returned the bow and stepped past the armsman into Borandas Daggeraxe’s personal office. It was on the fourth floor of the spire-like tower from which Star Tower Castle took its name, and its opened windows looked out over the castle’s courtyard and the green fields beyond. A cool breeze blew through them, setting the curtains dancing in a flicker of sunlight, and Borandas stood behind his desk, holding out his right hand to his cousin with a broad smile.

  “Brayahs!” he clasped forearms with the mage, squeezing firmly. “I’m sorry I missed you yesterday.”

  “I know you’ve been busy conferring with Thorandas and Sir Dahlnar,” Brayahs replied as he returned the clasp. “And, to be honest, I had some thinking of my own to do.”

  “Oh?” Borandas released his arm and stepped back, waving towards one of the unoccupied chairs in front of his desk. Sir Dahlnar nodded to Brayahs with a friendly smile, offering his own hand, and Brayahs reached out to take it. He clasped Bronzehelm’s forearm firmly, looking deep into the other man’s eyes, and his nostrils flared. He held Sir Dahlnar’s arm for an extra moment or two, then released it and sank into his own chair.

  “And what were you thinking about?” Borandas inquired. He leaned back in his own chair, clasping his hands behind his head, and regarded his cousin a bit quizzically. “I don’t seem to remember you taking very lo
ng to think things over when you were younger, Brayahs!”

  “Life was simpler when I was a runny-nosed brat pestering my grownup cousin,” Brayahs replied. “When you have so many fewer thoughts in your head, it doesn’t take as long to sort through them, you know.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Borandas agreed, but his eyes also narrowed slightly, as if he’d caught a trace of something unexpected in his cousin’s expression or manner, and he lowered his hands, sitting upright once more. “And now that you’ve sorted through the ones currently rattling around in your head, what conclusions have you reached?”

  “I’ve reached the conclusion that I have to take advantage of our kinship,” Brayahs said in a tone which had grown suddenly far more somber.

  “Meaning what?” Borandas’ expression turned warier, and Brayahs drew a deep breath.

  “Borandas, I’ve been the King’s man for three years now. In all that time, I’ve never approached you as the King’s man or in any way questioned any of the policies you’ve chosen to pursue here in the North Riding. And I have no instructions from His Majesty to do that now. Coming here this morning is my own decision, but I ask you as my kinsman and my Baron to hear me.”