Wind Rider's Oath wg-3

by David Weber

  “So I’d noticed,” Bahzell snorted.

  “Yes, but what I don’t quite understand is why the other coursers came along.”

  “Well, as to that, it’s after being Gayrfressa’s fault,” Bahzell said with a crooked grin. “She’s this strange notion that the coursers are after owing me a little favor or two. So after she’d put her head together with the other coursers, the stallions all agreed as how they’d come along and—just this once, mind—see if there were after being a few more of our lads from the Order as they could be carrying along with me.”

  “They what?” Tellian came half out of his chair in astonishment, and Hanatha set her beer abruptly back down on the table. Bahzell only smiled at them again, and Tellian settled back slowly. He shook his head.

  “Bahzell,” he said, “I don’t believe there have been more than three times in the entire history of the Kingdom when coursers have agreed to carry anyone other than their own chosen wind riders. And I know that they’ve never, ever, agreed to carry hradani. And you’re telling me they’ve agreed to carry Horse Stealer hradani?”

  “Aye.” Bahzell took another sip of his beer with elaborate enjoyment, looking as if he’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world. Tellian stared at him, then leaned all the way back in his chair.

  “There is,” he observed, “a particularly nasty fate reserved for people who get too full of themselves, Milord Champion.”

  “Aye?” Bahzell cocked his ears impudently at his host, then sobered. “That’s all after being very well, yet I’ve still the little problem of knowing just where it is they’re to be carrying us. I’m thinking as how the best I could be doing would be to ride to Kalatha and see what I could be finding out there. Yet there’s this—” he tapped his temple yet again “— as is insisting that wherever it may be her trouble lies, it’s not Kalatha.” He grimaced in obvious frustration. “It’s a maddening thing to know as how there’s not so very much time, yet not to be knowing where in Tomanak’s name she is.”

  “Well, Bahzell,” Hanatha said, with a slow smile, “you really don’t deserve this, after teasing Tellian that way about the coursers, but it just so happens that I’m fairly sure that I know where you need to go.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The road to Quaysar ran almost due east from Kalatha, and the morning sun shone brightly into Kaeritha’s face as Cloudy trotted briskly along it two days after her appointment with Lanitha. Birds soared and dipped overhead, calling to one another against the impossibly blue sky as they rode the brawny wind gusting out of the northwest, and the endless sea of young grass rippled and hissed musically as the stiff gusts pushed waves across it. The morning was still cool, but there was a sense of life and energy wrapped up in the wind and the high, beautiful cries of the birds, and Kaeritha drew that energy deep into her lungs.

  It was tempting to abandon herself to the sensual enjoyment of the new day, but the dark suspicion which had first whispered to her in Trisu’s library had hardened into something even darker which cast its own ominous shadow across the morning.

  She still had altogether too many questions and far too few answers, she reminded herself. Yet even as she conscientiously bore that in mind, she knew which way the facts she’d been able to test all pointed. What she didn’t begin to know was how all this could have happened, or why Lillinara and Tomanak seemed to have agreed that it was her job to deal with it.

  Not that she was tempted even for a moment to pretend it wasn’t her job. This was exactly the sort of task which had attracted her to Tomanak’s service in the first place. The fact that she wished with all her heart that someone like the war maids had been available to her mother—or to her—when she was a child only stiffened her resolve still further. She had no clear idea exactly what she was going to encounter at Quaysar, yet there was a stink of Darkness about this entire business. It was only too probable that she was riding directly into that Dark, but it was one of a champion of Tomanak’s functions to carry Light into even the deepest Darkness.

  Of course, sometimes the Light failed.

  Dame Kaeritha Seldansdaughter knew that, just as she knew how few of Tomanak’s champions ever died in bed. But if that was the price to hold off the Dark which had claimed fallen Kontovar, it was one she would pay. And if worse came to worst, the letter she had dispatched to Bahzell under Sword Seal contained all of her suspicions, discoveries, and deductions. If it should happen that this time she was fated to fail, she knew with absolute certainty that her brother would avenge her and complete her task as surely as she would have done that for him.

  She smiled warmly at the thought, then shook off her dark musings and raised her head, turning her face more fully to the sun and luxuriating in its warmth.

  * * *

  Quaysar was impressive.

  The temple’s original architects had found one of the few genuine hilltops the Wind Plain offered. It was obvious as Kaeritha approached that the upthrust knob upon which the temple and the town which supported it stood was basically a solid plug or dome of granite. It was nowhere near as towering as it had seemed at first glance, she realized as she drew closer. But it didn’t have to be, either. The low, rolling flatlands of the Wind Plain stretched away in every direction, as far as the eye could see, and even Quaysar’s relatively low perch allowed it to command its surroundings effortlessly.

  The old town of Quaysar, which had been folded into the temple community, was surrounded by a low but defensible wall. Newer buildings and outlying farms spread out from the old town along the arms of the crossroads which met beside the sizable pond or small lake at the base of the granite pedestal which supported the temple, and Kaeritha saw workers in the fields as Cloudy trotted past them.

  The temple itself had its own wall, which was actually higher than that of the old town and rose sheer from the very lip of the temple’s stony perch. That sort of security feature was no part of the temples of Lillinara in the Empire of the Axe, but the Empire was the oldest, most settled realm of Norfressa. Things had been far less orderly on the Wind Plain when Quaysar was first constructed. For that matter, they still were, she supposed. Or they had the potential to be, at any rate; the Time of Troubles wasn’t that far in the past. Given that history, she didn’t blame the original builders for seeing to it that their temple was not simply located in the most defensible position available but well fortified, to boot.

  She couldn’t see much of the temple buildings with the wall in the way, but the three traditional towers of any temple of Lillinara rose above them. The Tower of the Mother, with its round, alabaster full moon, was flanked by the slightly lower crescent moon-crowned Tower of the Maiden and the Tower of the Crone, with its matching globe of obsidian. The added height of the prominence upon which the entire temple stood lifted them even higher against the blue sky and high-piled, snow-white clouds to the south, and Kaeritha felt her imagination stir as she realized how they must look against the night heavens when the silver-white glow of Lillinara touched their stonework. Quaysar was far from the largest temple of Lillinara Kaeritha had ever seen, but its location and special significance gave it a majesty and a sense of presence she’d seldom seen equaled.

  Yet as she drew closer still, the imagined image of towers, burning with cool, radiant light against the star strewn heavens faded, and an icy chill touched her heart. No silver Lady’s Light clung to those towers or those walls under the warm sunlight of early afternoon, but Kaeritha’s eyes weren’t like those of other mortals. They Saw what others didn’t, and her mouth tightened as an ominous, poison-green light flickered at the corner of her vision.

  She knew that stomach-churning green. She’d Seen it before, and her mind went back to a rainy day in Baron Tellian’s library when she’d told him how unhappily familiar with the presence of the Dark champions of Tomanak were.

  She inhaled deeply and gazed up at the temple, trying to isolate those elusive flickers of green. She couldn’t, and her jaw clenched as she f
ailed. Each of Tomanak’s champions perceived evil and the handiwork of the Dark Gods in his or her own, unique fashion. Bahzell received his “feelings”—an impression of things not yet fully perceived, yet somehow known. Another champion she’d known heard music which guided him. But Kaeritha, like some magi to whom she’d spoken, Saw. For her, it was the interplay of light and shadow—or of Light and Dark. That inner perception had never failed or deceived her, and yet today, the meaning of what she Saw was … unclear. She couldn’t pin it down, couldn’t even be positive that the green light-devils dancing at the edges of her vision were coming from the temple, and not the town clustered below it.

  That shouldn’t have happened. Especially not when she’d come already primed by her suspicions and earlier investigations. The revealing glare of evil should have been obvious to her … unless someone—or something—with enormous power was deliberately concealing it.

  She made herself exhale and shook her head like a horse bothered by a fly. The concealment wasn’t necessarily directed specifically against her, she told herself. Whatever was happening in Quaysar was clearly part of a years-long effort, and the very thing which would make Quaysar such a prize in the eyes of the Dark was its importance to Lillinara and, specifically, to the Sothoii war maids. But that also meant Quaysar was more prominent, and more likely to draw pilgrims and visitors, than most other temples of its relatively modest size. And with pilgrims came those besides Kaeritha whose eyes might See what the Dark preferred to keep hidden.

  Yet logical as that conclusion was, the fact remained that it required tremendous power to so thoroughly obscure the inner sight of a champion of Tomanak. Indeed, such power must have completely blinded the perceptions—whether of sight, or hearing, or sensing—of anyone less intimately bound to the service of her god.

  Which meant that somewhere atop that timeworn tooth of granite waited a servant of the Greater Dark.

  Yes, she told herself grimly. And it’s probably the ’Voice’ herself. In fact, it would almost have to be. There’s no way anything this Dark and powerful could hide itself from an uncorrupted Voice. But whatever it is, it doesn’t have complete control. Not even a Dark God himself could keep me from Seeing if that were the case. Great! She snorted in harsh mental laughter. It’s not everyone in Quaysar. Marvelous. All I have to do is assume that anyone I meet serves the Dark until she proves differently!

  She closed her eyes and drew another deep breath.

  All right, Tomanak, she thought. You never promised it would be easy. And I suppose I’d be riding off in search of reinforcements instead of riding in all by my fool self, if my skull wasn’t just as thick as Bahzell’s. But it is. So, if You don’t have anything else to do this afternoon, why don’t You and I go call on the Voice?

  * * *

  “Well, she’s almost here, Paratha.”

  Varnaythus stood on the town wall of Quasar and watched the single rider approaching the town.

  “Fine,” the tall woman standing beside him said almost indifferently. She sounded so blase about it that Varnaythus turned his head to glare at her.

  “I know Dahlaha is … confident, let us say, Paratha. But I’d hoped it was at least remotely possible that your confidence might not be quite as, ah, exuberant as hers. This is a champion of Tomanak, you know.”

  “So she is,” the tall woman agreed. She turned away from the wall and leaned her back against it while she looked at Varnaythus with an expression which mingled confidence, contempt, and something else. Hunger, Varnaythus decided. Or perhaps not hunger—perhaps eagerness.

  “You do remember that you weren’t supposed to be seeing any champions—and especially not any champions of Tomanak—here at Quaysar, don’t you?” he asked in a tone of the withering irony.

  “No, we weren’t,” she agreed. “On the other hand, it’s not something I haven’t made preparations for. The Spider knew what She was doing when She recruited me, Varnaythus. With all due modesty, I’m the best there is. I’ll take care of your little champion for you.”

  Varnaythus stared at her in disbelief.

  “Are you insane?” he asked flatly, and anger flickered in her eyes. Her hand twitched near the hilt of her sword, and her upper lip curled back from her teeth. She opened her mouth to speak, but the index finger jabbed in her face stopped her.

  “Don’t you say a word,” he hissed in a voice like silk sliding on a dagger’s blade. “Not one word.”

  She closed her mouth again, with an almost audible click, and the wizard-priest drew a deep, deep breath and forced his anger back under control.

  “Now you will listen to me,” he told her, each word chopped off like a separate chip of ice. “Cassan’s plan to weaken Tellian is busy ending in what looks like unmitigated disaster. Jerghar and every one of his fellow Servants have been destroyed. And Tellian, Bahzell, and Brandark are all still alive. The entire plan, with the exception of this one, single aspect, has already failed. If your overconfidence causes this part of it to miscarry as the other parts already have, you had better pray that you die here in Quaysar. Because if you don’t, They will make you wish you had for the rest of eternity.”

  A shadow of fear crossed the tall woman’s face, but there was as much resentment as fear in her expression, and her nostrils flared.

  “I won’t fail,” she said flatly. “No, we weren’t supposed to see a champion of Tomanak here. I’ll grant that. But Her plans always provided for the possibility that we might lose our foothold here in Quaysar. Indeed, they depended on our losing it at a time and in the fashion of our own choosing.” She shrugged. “Perhaps that time is here, and perhaps it isn’t. We’ll soon see. But I tell you this, Varnaythus, you and Jerghar and your precious Baron Cassan may have failed, but we won’t. And even if every other aspect of the plan’s failed—for now, at least—this is the most important one, and you know it. You and Dahlaha told me at the outset that you wanted the Troubles back. Well, you’ll have them, damn you! We’ll take this terrifying little champion of yours, and the Spider will suck the life and soul out of her and make her serve our ends.”

  “Our record of successes against champions of Tomanak doesn’t exactly inspire me with unbounded faith in your confidence, Paratha,” Varnaythus said coldly. “And you might want to consider this, too. A year ago, there were seventeen champions of Tomanak in all of Norfressa. Now there are twenty, and four of them—four, Paratha; twenty percent of the total—are here on the Wind Plain or in Hurgrum. Do you think that’s just some sort of minor coincidence? Or do you think there might just be a reason? Because I don’t think it’s an accident, and I do think there’s a reason our track record against them has been an unmitigated disaster.”

  “Oh, no, Varnaythus—not our record, but yours. And, in fairness to Jerghar, he had to deal with the Bloody Hand. And, or so the Spider tells us, with a second champion. A courser champion, no less.” She shook her head. “Against someone as powerful as the Bloody Hand, anything might be possible. And if Jerghar had no reason to expect that he faced not one, but two champions, then small wonder he lost. But we face only one, and the weakest of the three.” She snorted and spat contemptuously over the wall. “This one is a lawyer at heart, Varnaythus. She craves to serve Justice, to look after the ’little people.’ If it were the Bloody Hand, then I might worry, for he, at least, is a foe to respect. But this one—this Kaeritha—!” She barked a harsh laugh of scorn. “This one we’ll eat, and use the leftover meat to feed the very flames we set out to ignite.”

  Varnaythus looked at her for several long, silent seconds, then shrugged.

  “Very well. I hope you’re right. But whether you are or not, the responsibility is yours, Paratha—yours and Dahlaha’s. I’ve warned you, as I warned her. I hope your preparations are adequate.”

  “They are,” she said with flat assurance.

  “I’m delighted to hear it,” he said. “But in the meantime, I’ve done everything I can. From here on, you’re on your own. If your confi
dence is justified, I’ll see you again in a few days.”

  Paratha opened her mouth again, but before she could speak, he was gone. She stood on the battlements, glaring at the empty flagstones on which he’d stood, then growled a curse under her breath and turned to look back out at the road from Kalatha once more.

  The trotting rider was much closer now, and Paratha gazed at her for two long minutes with a dark, hungry smile. Then she laughed once, a sound like a frozen branch shattering under the weight of winter ice, and turned away.

  * * *

  “Of course, Dame Kaeritha! Come in, come in! We’ve been expecting you.”

  The officer in command of the temple’s largely ceremonial gate guard bowed deeply and swept his arm at the open gate in a welcoming gesture. He straightened to find Kaeritha gazing down at him from Cloudy’s saddle with a quizzical expression and frowned ever so slightly, as if surprised she hadn’t ridden straight past at his invitation.

  “Expecting me?” she said, and he cleared his throat.

  “Uh, yes, Milady.” He shook himself. “The Voice warned us several days ago that you would be coming to visit us,” he said in a less flustered tone.

  “I see.” Kaeritha filed that information away along with the officer’s strong Sothoii accent and the warmth which had infused his own voice as he mentioned the Voice. It was uncommon for a temple of Lillinara in the Empire of the Axe to have its gate guard commanded by a man. It wasn’t precisely unheard of, even there, however, given the small percentage of Axewomen who followed the profession of arms, and she supposed it made even more sense here in the Kingdom of the Sothoii, where even fewer women were warriors. Yet she also saw two war maids in chari and yathu standing behind him, with swords at their hips, crossed bandoliers of throwing stars, and the traditional war maid garrottes wound around their heads like leather headbands. Given the special significance Quaysar held for all war maids, she found it … interesting that the temple’s entire guard force didn’t consist solely of them.