The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  He answered slowly. “Only that Maeshar of Otsinmohr will not be bringing his comrades into your woods to hunt at night now that the moon is waning.” He regarded her in silence. “What did you think I meant?”

  Having no good answer to give him, she turned on her heel and walked away.

  * * *

  “I suppose I’ll have to give them another Shadowshow,” said Erianthee as she sank down on the bench in Nimuar’s study. “We haven’t much in the way of new entertainment to offer, so they will have to be content with more of what they have seen.”

  “They’ll like Shadowshows,” said Nimuar, and looked over at Ninianee, setting the volume he had been reading aside. “You could bring in your two trained horses. They can do your bidding, performing all manner of tricks. Can’t they? Do I recall correctly? They can dance and perform airs above grounds. That’s right.” This last sounded slightly puzzled, as if he were unsure of his memory. He coughed delicately. “You can do this with those two horses, can’t you?”

  “Yes, Papa, I can. Now that the full moon is past.” There was a long silence that ended as Erianthee clapped her hands.

  “I have it! I’ll do the Kylomotarch Cycle, the Nine Tales of the Lost Times. No one can argue with anything I present on such a theme.”

  “Kylomotarch being god of forgetfulness and all things lost to memory,” said Nimuar, a little sadly. “Very clever, my child. Yes. That should hold the attention of Maeshar and his company. I will be glad when they are gone.”

  “And I,” said Ninianee with real feeling.

  Erianthee looked from her sister to her father. “I’ll tell Kloveon about what I intend to do. He will want to be ready in case there is difficulty with any of Maeshar’s companions.”

  “You just want to tell him,” said Ninianee, her smile removing any possible sting from her observation.

  “And what of Yulko Bihn?” Nimuar asked. “Will he accept such a display?”

  “He could hardly refuse it, for that would make him an unappreciative guest, and that would keep him from returning,” said Ninianee. “Let me deal with him. I’ll make sure he cannot speak out against anything you do. He intends to come here again, so he cannot wholly discredit his host.”

  Nimuar touched her arm, and for a long moment his eyes seemed as clear as they had been before he had lost his battle with the present Court magician. “Have a care, Ninianee. He is vindictive and vicious as a Fahnine schow-rat. I would not want you to put yourself in danger from him upon my account.”

  “That woman with him is as bad as he is, if not worse,” said Erianthee.

  “Has she done anything untoward?” Nimuar asked, looking dismayed.

  “It’s not that,” said Erianthee. “It’s that whenever I see her, I feel as if something nasty has got on me.”

  “On that we agree,” said Ninianee, thinking back to the encounter she had witnessed in the garden.

  “So be circumspect, both of you,” said Nimuar. “I don’t think I could bear to lose either of you.”

  “You will not lose us, Papa,” Erianthee assured him.

  “I hope not. That is why I worry for you.” His face was going slack again, and his thoughts wandered. “I have my studies . . . to keep me busy. The rest I leave to you.”

  “Yes, Papa, go and deal with your books. We can handle matters for you until we dine,” said Ninianee, and stepped away from him. “I’ll see that we have the spell-hounds in the antechamber to the Great Hall, so that nothing can be done without our being alerted to it. No one can object to such precautions. We have noble guests whom we must protect.”

  “The spell-hounds are used to my Shadowshows, and will distinguish between what I do and what anyone else may try,” said Erianthee.

  “Yes, yes,” murmured Nimuar. “Of course.”

  The sisters exchange looks of exasperation and worry, and Ninianee said for them both, “Never mind, Papa. We’ll take care of things.”

  “Good. Yes, good.” Nimuar opened one of the books on his trestle table and began to thumb through its pages. “The Library let me have these for my researches. Wasn’t that kind of them?”

  “Yes, Papa,” the sisters said in unison.

  “I will spend some time in my researches,” he said a bit distantly. “Do not fret if I do not join you for a while. I need to pursue this one line of inquiry.”

  “About what, Papa?” Erianthee asked.

  “About Agnith’s Treasure, of course.” He beamed at them. “I think I may have stumbled on to the means of finding it.”

  Ninianee felt her heart sink. “Papa, don’t let it bother you. Please.”

  “It doesn’t bother me,” he said. “You worry too much.”

  Erianthee tugged at Ninianee’s sleeve. “Come. Papa needs time to himself,” she said as she started toward the door.

  “But – ” Ninianee protested as she watched her father open the large book he had been reading and begin thumbing through the pages.

  “Come,” Erianthee repeated more forcefully. “We have arrangements to make; you said so yourself.” As she opened the door, she called to Nimuar, “We’re going, Papa. We’ll send someone for you when it’s time for the banquet.” With that she closed the door.

  “What do you expect to do now?” Ninianee asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Nimuar.

  “I expect to have one of the spell-hounds brought to this door, to make sure no one interferes with him.” Erianthee said firmly. “And you know better than I how to set up guardians about the castle, which we must have.” She fiddled with the locket on a golden chain around her neck, a sure sign of edginess. “I can manage the Shadowshow so long as you can maintain protection for us all.”

  “I will do so, certainly,” said Ninianee.

  “I think Doms Guyon will help you, if you ask him.” Erianthee made this suggestion carefully, not knowing how her sister would respond.

  “You may be right,” said Ninianee in a tone that meant the opposite.

  “Well, think about it,” said Erianthee.

  “I will. And you think about what use Kloveon of Fauthsku might be to you. Even if he is an Imperial spy, he has an obligation to protect you.” Ninianee folded her arms. “We’re in a fix, Eri, we really are.”

  “Yes,” said Erianthee. “We are.”

  7. Disappearances

  Maeshar of Otsinmohr was more than half-drunk, and that made him loud. He threw back his head and launched into The Ballad of the Lonely Millwright, singing confidently off-pitch, and gesturing to his companions to join him on the chorus.

  Ver Mindicaz, who had donned her best guin of Fahnine silk and gaunel of heavy Adamine-velvet, looked at the disarray of the guests and sighed before turning to Ninianee, who stood beside her in equally fine garments, her gaunel of Boarthine suede dyed the color of gantz-fir needles and trimmed with gold embroidery. “It may be as well if your father decides not to join us at supper, considering how the guests are behaving,” she said. “I don’t know if I should bother to announce the dishes.”

  “With Yulko Bihn here, you had better do so, or who knows what mischief he might suspect. We don’t need him fearing he might be poisoned, or given a spell in his food,” said Ninianee with a meaningful glance to where the magician stood with his voluptuous companion, the two of them holding themselves apart from the rabble of Maeshar and his comrades. “Also, keep them away from the urajin-players. Those instruments are valuable – I don’t want to have to purchase new ones for the musicians because one of Maeshar’s friends wants to try his hand at it.”

  “It’s probably the wiser course,” said Ver Mindicaz, trying to smile at her own feeble pun.

  Ninianee continued to scan the room as if seeking more trouble. “If Maeshar gets any more rambunctious, it could be a problem. He doesn’t like to be told what to do by anyone.” She caught sight of Kloveon of Fauthsku standing near the main dining table, his brow dark as a thundercloud, his posture showing he was ready to intervene in any mis
chief.

  “This is going to be difficult,” said Ver, her face somber. “I could ask Heijot Merinex to cast a spell to calm them.”

  “A most improper way to treat guests, and I doubt it would work for very long – not with Yulko Bihn here. There has to be another way,” said Ninianee, glimpsing Doms Guyon out of the corner of her eye. “We could always begin with a little entertainment, something engaging but not complex, just to gain their attention.”

  “Do you think he will do that for you?” Ver had followed Ninianee’s glance.

  “If I ask him politely, I hope he might.”She disliked her own uncertainty, but she did her utmost to smile her determination. “If he is unwilling, he may suggest someone who will help.”

  “Then speak to him now, before Maeshar becomes any more boisterous. Much more of this and his companions will be vying with one another in excess.” Ver stepped back from the door. “I’ll tell General Rocazin that we’re going to wait a bit to serve. We won’t have trouble in the kitchen for an hour yet.”

  “All right,” said Ninianee, dreading the appeal she would have to make. Never one to shirk a duty because it was unpleasant, she lifted her head, shook out the riot of her copper curls, and slipped through the gathered guests to where Doms Guyon was sitting in an alcove dedicated to Bandikrion the Destinizer, goddess of ambition and fate. He had just poured out a small offering of fragrant oil when Ninianee approached him. She gave no indication that she had seen him make the offering, although she had. Without any social flourishes, she said, “You told me I might call upon you for your help – did you mean it?”

  He looked directly at her. “The favors of Bandikrion to you, Duzna.”

  She would not be put off by pleasantries. “Did you?”

  “Of course I did. I wouldn’t have said so otherwise. Why? Is there something you would like me to do for you?” There was more than teasing in his light tone, there was a much stronger emotion that underlay his bantering speech. “You have only to ask, and it is yours, within the limits of my poor powers.”

  She faltered. “It’s Maeshar and his – ”

  “Buffoons?” Doms suggested.

  Ninianee sighed. “They are that, but I was going to say guests.”

  Doms laughed softly. “Were you?”

  Her temper flared but she kept it in check. “I serve as hostess with my sister. And that is why I have come to you.” Her bright eyes dared him to argue with her. “These men are becoming restive.”

  “And if they’re not distracted they may soon turn bellicose,” said Doms, sharing her misgivings. “You know that they are disinterested in the rules of hospitality, but that you cannot afford to neglect them. You would like me to amuse them until they are orderly enough for the Meal Rite for Visitors?”

  She nodded, horrified that her purpose had been so obvious. “If you would. I thank you for not making me ask too much of you.”

  “Certainly.” He touched her hand lightly. “Is there nothing more I can do?”

  “Thank you, no.” Ninianee felt an emotion very like panic burgeoning within her, but she kept herself from showing it, chastising herself for allowing Doms to affect her so strangely. “I leave you to decide how best to proceed.”

  He respected her. “Anything to serve you, Duzna.”

  She moved through the milling guests, determined not to look back at him, and she almost succeeded; just as she reached the main door, she glanced back at him and saw him kiss his fingers to her. “Bontaj,” she muttered, and continued on to Ver Mindicaz’s side. “He’s going to do something.”

  “What?” Ver asked. “Did he tell you?”

  Before Ninianee could venture a guess, there was the sound of singing birds all around them. The guests slowly stopped their loud conversations; Maeshar faltered at mid-verse and swung about in annoyance, but he didn’t resume his ballad. Gradually the sound of birds faded and Doms strolled out to the performing platform, two knives, a shining plate of Eoques-ware, a bottle of wine with the cork half-removed, and a slippery Ysmili-fruit held at the ready.

  He began to juggle the knives first, nothing complicated or flamboyant; then he added the plate. Next the bottle of wine joined the objects, and finally the Ysmili-fruit. As he added items to his display, Doms also picked up the speed until the five objects seemed to blur in an arc around his head. He continued this a short while as the audience stared in wonder, then, as he felt their attention start to wane, he tossed the knives into a large round of bread set on a platter at mid-table. That done, he sailed the plate to the far end of the table where it landed with a faint wobble. The Ysmili-fruit ended up on the offering-table for Nyolach the Unexpected. Last of all, he tossed the bottle of wine almost to the ceiling, and as it fell, snatched the cork from its neck with one hand and caught it with the other. He took a long, splashing drink from it before performing an elaborate respect to his audience.

  “Well, that got their attention,” said Ver, who had returned from the kitchen before the knives had been thrown. “I wish some of my assistants had his skill.” She went forward to announce the dinner, doing it as speedily as possible, and remained to perform the Meal Rite for Guests; by the end of the ritual, most of Maeshar’s companions were seated, and Maeshar himself had taken the seat that rightly belonged to Kloveon. He beamed muzzily at the diners, self-satisfaction in every aspect of his posture and manner as he slapped the table with the palm of his hand and declared himself ready to eat.

  Ninianee found her way to her place, sorry now that she hadn’t seated Kloveon herself, so this embarrassment could have been avoided. She had no wish to deal with Maeshar, especially with her father so conspicuously absent, but as hospitality demanded, she respected Maeshar politely.

  “You need no ceremony with me, Duzna. I am a simple man of simple wants,” said Maeshar, his eyes shining as he looked over at Ninianee.

  “We at Vildecaz Castle will not receive guests shoddily,” she said with a rictus smile.

  “How like minor nobles – to try to increase their importance through ceremony.” He realized to whom he was speaking, and he put his hand to his lips.

  “A most edifying observation,” said Ninianee, keeping an eye on Doms Guyon as he moved about the room.

  As if determined to make up for his comment about minor nobles, Maeshar continued doggedly, “I see your father had abandoned you again, and your sister is absent tonight, as you have been missing on previous nights. Is this to ensure the safety of your Castle? I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me or my guests, or nothing magical.” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt to appear gallant. “Have you decided not to compete for the attentions of your visitors, and so only one of you is present for main meals? It is a most intriguing gesture, and I, for one, am tantalized.” He wagged his finger at her. “You are not doing a very good job of upholding the honor of Vildecaz. That Imperial spy – ”

  “Yulko Bihn?” Ninianee suggested.

  “No. Kloveon of Fauthsku. He will surely report that matters are not secure in Vildecaz. I could provide some protection from the results of such a report if I could assure the Emperor that you and I had become betrothed.”

  “This is not the time for such a discussion,” said Ninianee. “My father, as you said, is absent.”

  “What better, with so many witnesses? Then no matter how inadequate his memory, he could not gainsay our betrothal.” He tried to take her hand, but she eluded him. “You’ll have to accept me if you want to keep your Duzky autonomous, or semi-autonomous.”

  “I don’t see how marrying the Emperor’s cousin does that, Maeshar. I fear that if our Houses were united our lands must soon be the same, to the advantage of Otsinmohr, not Vildecaz. Riast must have more than the boundary the River Dej provides in mind if he believes that a marriage between us would preserve Vildecaz’s autonomy, and I doubt he would grant Vildecaz perpetual independence from Otsinmohr, or spare us the garrison from his capital to keep us so,” she said, a bit more sharply than she h
ad intended.

  “You’re a feisty wench,” approved Maeshar. “You’d need some taming, but I'd welcome the task.” He drank from the goblet that had been set before him. “Come, Duzna, shouldn’t neighbors be more cordial with each other?”

  Had Erianthee been with her, Ninianee might have left the table on some excuse and not returned until the meal was well-advanced; as it was, she tried not to grind her teeth too audibly. “Why do you insist on pursuing me in this way, with the Castle filled with guests of your bringing? This is not the setting for such negotiations, and well you know it.”

  “The rules of hospitality say that I would be remiss not to extend you my protection, being as my rank is superior to yours,” said Maeshar, his expression turning belligerent.

  “We have fed and housed you, entertained and attended on you – most cordially.” Ninianee was finding it difficult to check her temper, and she was on the verge of speaking out more strongly when there were footsteps approaching.

  “Duzna Ninianee,” said a voice from behind her chair.

  She turned and saw Doms Guyon standing a step back. “Is something the matter?”

  “I believe your attention is needed.” His face was somber. “It concerns Hoftstan Ruch; your Housekeeper-General sent me.” He pulled back her chair and respected Maeshar of Otsinmohr. “If you will pardon me for interrupting your discourse?”

  Maeshar nodded and poured himself more wine. “No doubt your father has slipped away again; such is the way when magicians lose their minds,” he murmured as Ninianee turned her back on him without respecting him.

  “Am I truly needed, or did you intend to spare me anything more of my obnoxious neighbor?” Ninianee asked when they were far enough away from Maeshar to be certain he would not overhear.

  “That wasn’t my intention, although it is a pleasant result, isn’t it? The fellow is a boor, and not even the Porzalk Emperor can change that.” He looked over the gathered guests, saying as he did, “Yulko Bihn and his apprentice have left the Great Hall. They are in his chambers.”