by Debra Doyle
"Any more trouble from the Green Sun?"
Miza looked amused. "They're very quiet and well behaved whenever the subject comes up. But they aren't taking political commissions much these days at all. I think our friends Bindweed and Blossom had a few words with the boss-man after they got back from Khesat."
"Good," said Jens. "We've been asking questions on Khesat along those same lines, trying to figure out who paid whom for what. My cousin-once-removed the Exalted of Tanavral admits to sending me the false message as a lure—he doesn't say anything about hiring the Green Sun, but all the trails lead that way, so I expect that he's guilty."
"No," said Faral. "That was Gerre Hafelsan, before Ransome got to him. He wanted to deprive the Exalted of Tanavral of his prize Worthy. Then the Adepts on Khesat got word of what was going on—not hard to do, since Caridal Fere was the Exalted's fellow-conspirator—and removed a lot of the background data from the Green Sun's intelligence files in the hopes that they'd fumble the snatch, and maybe even get the two of us killed in the crossfire."
"Huool gave Faral a B-plus for that analysis," Miza said proudly.
Jens raised an eyebrow. "Only a B-plus?"
"I skimped on the footnotes," Faral admitted. "Sorry."
"Kasander would have wanted one of the Jessani for a Worthy," said Jens's father. "Ideally, one whom nobody would actually pick as a candidate for presentation—just so that his faction could derive prestige from convincing one of us to make the attempt. And our branch of the family, I greatly fear, is thought of on Khesat as sadly unstable."
"You worked hard on that impression for years," Beka Rosselin-Metadi said. "It had to convince someone eventually."
"I want to know what the Khesatan Adepts thought they were doing," said Llannat. "Staying out of local politics has been a Guild rule for as long as I can remember."
"And I," said Owen. "Which was part of the problem, I think. Errec Ransome—whatever else he did—put a stop to that sort of thing most places. It was the Guild for the Guild alone, with him. Those of us who grew up under his rules forgot that things had ever been otherwise."
"Khesat was one of the places where they were otherwise," Jens told him. "Very much otherwise, apparently; I've read my predecessors' journals. The Khesatan Adepts gave up local politics when Errec Ransome reformed the Guild after the First Magewar—or at least they said that they did. What we're finding out now is that they merely changed their act on the surface and kept all their old bad habits underneath.
"So Caridal Fere—acting as the Master of the local Guiki—made certain that the Green Sun on Ophel was hindered in its kidnapping attempts, and bribed the crowd in Ilsefret to reject me at the Acclamation. And it was Caridal Fere and the Khesatan Adepts who killed my predecessor, instead of letting the poor man retire in good time."
"They were afraid he'd support your candidacy if they let him live," said Miza. "You were related to him, after all— even if your branch of the family isn't respectable. So he had to die, and you had to be put out of the running, as soon as possible."
"And letting the Council of Worthies regretfully decide that I wouldn't be suitable wasn't good enough for them." Jens shook his head. "I don't know why—I certainly never had any quarrel with the Khesatan Guild. Not before now."
"I think," said Miza, "that the Khesatan Adepts were afraid of you, even as a candidate not seriously intended for presentation. They didn't want you or any other member of your family coming anywhere near the contest. You're too well known and well connected outside of Khesat's own sphere of influence, you're far too close to the Guild Master and the First—and face it, exciting times follow your family around like a stray pet looking for a home."
"Enough talk of troubles past," said Mael Taleion. "On Eraasi, this would be the season to speak of new beginnings, and to offer peace to those who are gone."
He poured mulled wine and berry-cider for all present, even the young ones, and raised his cup to his lips. A moment before drinking, he poured a splash onto the floor.
"For all the spirits who still seek rest," he said, like a benediction. "An old age is ending; a new age begins. May it bring good fortune to the Republic and the Homeworlds both."
"Good fortune," Jens echoed him—and the Highest of Khesat spilled a drop of wine, and drank.