Wind Rider's Oath wg-3

by David Weber

  Trianal barked a laugh at the very thought, and Yarran nodded.

  “Aye, and if you and I think that, don’t you think those on the other side might be thinking the same? Which means their best chance to get out of this with their skins whole is to succeed in what they started out to do in the first place. And they’ll not do that by sitting home on the other side of the Bogs and letting Lord Festian put Glanharrow back in order.

  “So I’m thinking that what they’re doing right this minute is either sitting back and waiting to see just how long Milord Baron is prepared to leave you and your armsmen here to support Lord Festian, or else thinking about whether or not they want to reinforce their side. Or it might be they’re doing both of those at the selfsame time.”

  He shrugged, and his expression was noticeably more grim as he drank another large mouthful of his ale.

  “So the answer to your question, Milord,” he said finally, letting his tankard thump back down on the plain, plank tabletop, “is that, aye, I think we’ll be seeing them again. Maybe sooner than we’d like.”

  * * *

  “Well, at least we’re rid of her at last,” Dahlaha Farrier said. She pouted into the mirror above her dressing table, leaning close to examine her faultless complexion critically, and her golden hair gleamed under the lamplight.

  “You’re rid of her,” Varnaythus corrected. He sat comfortably slouched in an armchair, watching her primp for an evening with Trisu’s cousin Triahm. The first evening they’d spent together since Dame Kaeritha’s arrival at Thalar Keep.

  “What do you mean?” Dahlaha’s eyes shifted, gazing at his reflection in her mirror, and there was an edge of something—petulance, perhaps—in her tone.

  Varnaythus simply looked back at her blandly. She’d already made it obvious that she resented his return to Thalar, and he saw no reason to let her guess that he resented it as well, probably more than she did. And although he had no intention of admitting it to her, he’d been more than a little frightened when he got the instructions that sent him back. He’d had no desire at all to get any closer to a champion of Tomanak than he had to, and especially not at a time when that champion’s suspicions might well have been aroused. So he’d been delighted to discover that Kaeritha had left Thalar several hours before he himself arrived back there.

  “I only meant that Dame Kaeritha hasn’t indicated that she’s about to resign her interest in Trisu’s dispute with Kalatha,” he said. “Unless I very much miss my guess—” which, he knew from his gramerhain, he did not “— she’s on her way back to Kalatha to reexamine their copies of the documents. After all, the fact that she didn’t denounce either side as forgers and liars before she left suggests to me that she isn’t prepared at this point to uncritically accept the validity of either side’s documents.”

  “Well, of course not,” Dahlaha agreed a bit snippily. “Obviously one set has to be false. But that’s fine. My Lady’s webs are carefully woven, Varnaythus. In the end, it won’t really matter which side Tomanak’s precious champion condemns for creating the forgery. I’ll admit, it will work out better if she blames Trisu, especially because she’s a woman herself, but either outcome will suit Her needs and plans quite well.”

  “I know that,” Varnaythus said, watching her with unobtrusive intensity, “but my point is that she hasn’t blamed anyone. She hasn’t even so much as whispered to anyone here in Thalar that she might suspect that anyone’s committed forgery. To me, that suggests that she isn’t about to leap to any conclusions, or issue any hasty rulings.”

  “And what of it?” Dahlaha asked, hunching one shoulder impatiently. “It doesn’t matter to Them if she takes a few days, or weeks, to make her decision. In the end, she has to decide for one side or the other, Varnaythus.”

  “It does make a difference in at least one sense, Dahlaha,” Varnaythus said patiently. “Their plan requires a certain degree of synchronization. You do recall that They have multiple strands to their web, don’t you?” Dahlaha’s blue eyes were dagger-sharp as she glared at his reflection, and he smiled ever so slightly. “It would be nice if your Lady and Krahana could see both of Their plans come to fruition at as close to the same time as possible. Otherwise,” his smile disappeared, “it’s possible that if either plan fails, the champion of Tomanak that one should have snared will be available to reinforce his —or her—fellow. Do you really want Bahzell Bloody Hand down here supporting Dame Kaeritha?”

  Dahlaha’s face had lost all expression at the mention of Bahzell, rather to Varnaythus’s amusement. Not that he would have been any happier than she at the prospect of confronting him. For all of Dahlaha’s contempt for Sharna and the deceased Tharnatus, the brutal effectiveness with which Bahzell had dispatched not simply one, but two of Sharna ’s greater demons made the prospect of facing him a frightening one. Varnaythus knew that as well as Dahlaha did; what amused him was the obvious twinge of fear she’d felt at the words “the Bloody Hand.” However fitting they might be, Varnaythus knew the song the cognomen derived from … and who its author was.

  “No, of course I’d rather not have to deal with two champions instead of one, regardless of who they might be!” Dahlaha said tartly after a brief pause. “But if Krahana’s Servants do their jobs properly, it won’t come to that, will it?”

  “No,” Varnaythus agreed in the same obviously patient tone. “At the same time, however, you do realize, don’t you, that Jerghar is thinking exactly the same thing about your Lady and you.” He grimaced. “I don’t suppose I can really blame either of you for that, but I do wish you could remember that it’s my job to keep both of you running in harness. Not to mention keeping an eye on Baron Cassan and his little plots.”

  “All right,” she said with a shrug. “You’re right, I should remember this is a web with more than one strand. And that They chose you to look after all of them. On the other hand, I also know you enjoy being a pain in the arse, Varnaythus. Don’t bother to deny it—you and I both know it’s true.”

  “Of course I do,” he confessed cheerfully. “It’s one of the few small pleasures I can allow myself, especially now. But my real reason for dropping by to see you is to ask you exactly what you expect Dame Kaeritha to do when she returns to Kalatha?”

  “Do?” Dahlaha turned from the mirror to look at him with obvious surprise. “She’s going to reexamine their documents, exactly as she told Trisu she would.”

  “I meant after that,” Varnaythus explained in the voice of someone manifestly asking his deity for strength. Dahlaha’s eyes hardened again, and he shrugged. “We both know what she’s going to find when she compares the documents,” he pointed out. “Even They can’t—or, at least, haven’t—told me whether or not she’ll be able to determine which of them are false, but even if she can’t, she’s going to confirm that they disagree with one another. So, what will she do then?”

  “I don’t know,” Dahlaha said irritably. She twitched her shoulders again. “Probably she’ll decide to go to Sothofalas and the Royal Archives in order to see what the Crown’s copy of the original says.”

  “Dahlaha,” he said wearily, “I don’t think it’s very wise to make any assumption of that nature. Or to assume Kaeritha is a fool who can’t see beyond the point of her own sword, just because she follows Tomanak.”

  Dahlaha glared at him, and he sighed.

  “You yourself just pointed out to me that in a very real sense, it doesn’t matter for your Lady’s plans which side she accuses of committing the forgery. Hasn’t it occurred to you that the same thought might cross her mind? Or that she might wonder whether or not the forgery is the work of a third party out to damage both the war maids and the kingdom at large?”

  “Well, of course she might,” Dahlaha said, her glare fading just a bit as her mind—which, Varnaythus was forced to admit, was actually quite a good one … when she chose to use it—began to consider his point.

  “In that case,” Varnaythus continued patiently, “isn’t it possi
ble that instead of simply haring off to Sothofalas to confirm, as well as she can, which document was forged, she might decide to concentrate on who did the forging? After all, if it was a third party and she can unmask whoever actually did it, then she can avoid issuing a ruling which is bound to ignite a firestorm by accusing either Trisu or Kalatha. If she could demonstrate that both of them were the victims of someone else’s plot, wouldn’t that change the entire focus of their confrontation?”

  “Yes, she might do that,” Dahlaha conceded in a tone which was becoming steadily more thoughtful. “But in that case—”

  “In that case, she’s going to spend some additional time poking around in Kalatha, exactly as she did here,” Varnaythus pointed out. “And she’s going to be looking very hard for any clue which might point to that hypothetical third party’s identity. And she’s a champion of Tomanak, Dahlaha. Whatever else you may think of them, you have to admit they have the instincts of a bloodhound once they start nosing around.”

  “Yes, they do, the Spider take them,” Dahlaha growled.

  “So I’d say it’s entirely possible that she’s going to ask a lot of questions in Kalatha, and that after she’s asked them, she’s going to continue on not to Sothofalas, but to Quaysar. After all, if she’s wondering about those sorts of questions, then she’s going to need to talk to the only other real authority involved in the dispute. And that’s the Quaysar Voice.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is,” Dahlaha said, blue eyes narrow and intent as the keen brain Varnaythus had—finally!—goaded into action went to work.

  “I realize there are already contingency plans in place to deal with that possibility,” he said. Actually, he knew there were supposed to be contingency plans in place, but he had a less than lively faith that Dahlaha had really given them the attention they required. “Nonetheless, I thought it would be worth my time to drop in on you to remind you that they might be needed. And,” he held her eyes very steadily, “to suggest that They might feel that it was time you double-checked your plans … just in case.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Welcome back to Kalatha, Dame Kaeritha.” Mayor Yalith’s voice was much warmer than it had been the first time Kaeritha entered her office, and her smile was broad. “How may we serve you this time?”

  “Actually, I’m more or less just passing through on my way to Quaysar,” Kaeritha replied, watching the mayor’s expression with carefully hidden attentiveness. “I’ve spoken to you, and to Lord Trisu. Now I think it would be just as well for me to speak to the Voice and get her perspective on the disputes between your town and Trisu. Not to mention her temple’s own … difficulties with him.” It seemed to her watchful eyes that Yalith’s quick nod of approval for her last comment was automatic, almost unconscious. “I hadn’t realized from our previous discussion that she was also the secular head of the Quaysar community. The fact that she is means she’s probably had much more direct contact with him than I’d previously assumed.”

  “I’m sure she has,” Yalith said a bit sourly. “I doubt she’s enjoyed it any more than I have, though.” The mayor shook her head. “I realize that the Voice is Lillinara’s personal servant, but it would take a saint, not merely a priestess, to endure that man as her liege.”

  “He can certainly be one of the most irritating people I’ve ever met,” Kaeritha acknowledged even as she mentally filed away Yalith’s tone and body language. Clearly, the mayor, at least, had no reservations about the Voice. Kaeritha wished the same were true for her.

  “If he’s irritating to a visiting champion of Tomanak, you can probably begin to imagine how ’irritating’ he can be as a permanent, inescapable neighbor!” The mayor shook her head again, with a grimace.

  “I doubt that proximity makes him any easier to deal with, anyway,” Kaeritha agreed. The mayor snorted a laugh and waved for Kaeritha to take one of the chairs facing her desk.

  The knight seated herself in the indicated chair and leaned back, crossing her legs.

  “Before I move on to Quaysar,” she said in a tone which was as everyday-sounding as she could keep it, “I wonder if you could tell me a little more about the Voice.” Yalith’s eyebrows rose, and Kaeritha shrugged. “I understand she’s almost as new to her office as Trisu is to his lord wardenship,” she explained, “and I’d like to have a little bit better feel for her position and personality before I walk into her temple and start asking questions some priestesses might consider impertinent or even insulting. Especially coming from a champion of someone else’s god. “

  “I see.” Yalith rested her elbows on the arms of her chair and leaned back comfortably, steepling her fingers under her chin. She pursed her lips for several seconds, clearly marshaling her thoughts, but Kaeritha saw no evidence of any uneasiness or misgivings.

  “The present Voice is younger than the last one,” the mayor said finally. “To be honest, when I first met her, I thought she might be too young for the post, but I was wrong. Now that she’s been in it for a while, and I’ve had a chance to see her in action, as it were, I think she may seem to be younger than she truly is.”

  “You do? Why?” Kaeritha asked.

  “She’s an extraordinarily attractive woman, Dame Kaeritha, but she has one of those faces that will look young until she’s at least eighty.” The mayor smiled. “When I was younger myself, I would have cheerfully traded two or three fingers from my left hand for her bone structure and coloring. Now I just envy them.”

  “Oh.” Kaeritha smiled back. “One of those.”

  “Definitely one of those,” Yalith agreed. Then she shook her head. “But she doesn’t really seem aware of it herself,” the mayor continued more seriously. “I sometimes wonder if her appearance was an obstacle for her in her pursuit of her calling, but her vocation is obvious once you’ve spent even a very few minutes with her. There’s a … a presence to her I’ve never experienced with any other Voice. Once you’ve met her, I think you’ll understand why the Church assigned her to Quaysar.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Kaeritha replied. “At the same time, Mayor, a spiritual vocation doesn’t always translate into effectiveness when it comes to managing the more mundane affairs of a temple. I’d imagine that would be even more the case for a priestess who’s also a mayor. How would you evaluate her in that regard?”

  “I’ve only been to Quaysar myself once since she became Voice there,” Yalith said. “She’s visited us here four times since then, but most of the contact between us has been through her handmaidens. So my impressions of her abilities as an administrator are all secondhand, as it were.”

  She arched an eyebrow, and Kaeritha nodded her understanding of the qualifier.

  “Well, having said that,” the mayor continued, “I would have to say she seems to be at least as efficient and effective as her predecessor was, which is pretty high praise all by itself. I certainly haven’t heard about any internal problems, at any rate. And given my own experiences, I can’t say the difficulties she’s apparently had with Trisu of Lorham give me any cause to question her ability to work comfortably with an unprejudiced secular lord.”

  “I see.” Kaeritha considered that for a moment, then cocked her head to one side. “Given what you’ve said about how relatively little direct contact you’ve had with her, I suppose that’s probably as definitive an opinion as anyone could expect you to have formed. Did you know the previous Voice better than that?”

  “Oh, yes!” Yalith smiled. It was a broad smile, warm, yet touched with sadness. “The old Voice came from right here in Kalatha. She was born here, actually, and I knew her long before she heard Lillinara’s call. In fact, we grew up together.”

  “You did? Somehow, I had the impression she was older than that.”

  “Old? Shandra?” Yalith snorted, then grimaced. “I suppose I shouldn’t call her that. I know any Voice gives up her old name and takes a new one in religion. But she was actually a year or two younger than I was, and I’ll always think of her as the
blond-haired kid who insisted on tagging along when I went fishing in the river.”

  “So she was actually younger than you,” Kaeritha mused. “And from your manner and tone, she sounds as if she were an extraordinary person.”

  “Indeed she was,” Yalith said softly.

  “How did she come to die?” Kaeritha asked. “Because I thought she was older than she was, I’d simply assumed it was old age, or perhaps some illness. But if she was as young as you are …”

  “No one is really sure,” Yalith sighed. “Oh, it was an illness, but it came on extraordinarily suddenly, and I think it took her and her physicians by surprise because she’d always been so healthy. The constitution of a courser, she always used to joke with me when we were girls.” She shook her head sadly. “But that wasn’t enough this time. She became ill one day, and she was gone less than three days later. I didn’t even realize she was seriously ill in time to get to Quaysar to tell her goodbye.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Kaeritha said softly. Even sorrier than you can guess, given what I’m beginning to suspect, she added silently to herself. “But you’d say you’re pleased with the job the new Voice is doing as her successor?”

  “As pleased as anyone could be after losing someone like Shandra,” Yalith agreed firmly. “We were extremely lucky to have two such strong Voices in succession. In fact, I think possibly our present Voice may even be better suited to the … less pleasant aspects of our disputes with Trisu than Shandra would have been. Her faith is obviously just as deep, but Shandra always shied away from confrontation. She wasn’t weak, or anything like that, but she preferred finding a consensus or arriving at compromises. Which is fine, as long as the person on the other side of the dispute is equally willing to be reasonable. Our present Voice is a bit more willing to remember that she speaks as the Mother’s Voice when it comes to rebuking Her children’s misbehavior.”