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

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  As soon as the door into the Castle had closed upon Hoftstan and their unexpected guest, Erianthee tugged on Ninianee’s arm. “Come. Let’s go read what Gaxamirin sends us.”

  “In a moment,” said Ninianee. “I want one of the spell-hounds to have a sniff at this before we open it.”

  “Why?” Erianthee asked.

  “Because we don’t know anything about Rai Pareo,” said Ninianee. “He says he comes from Magsto Gaxamirin, but that may be a lie. He may be a spy sent to weaken Vildecaz. So it’s best to take the precaution of turning the hounds loose on this letter, to be sure it is what it is.”

  Erianthee laughed a bit breathlessly. “It is probably a good thing you don’t go to Riast’s Court. Your suspicions would offend the Emperor.”

  “Do you think so?” She saw the groom Nejoch emerging from the stable and signaled to him. “Bring a spell-hound, would you? This needs to be checked, and quickly.”

  “Shouldn’t we go inside? Everyone will see this,” said Erianthee, then answered her own question. “If there is a spell the closing of a door could activate it. I take your point, Nin.”

  “And you know the reason for it.” Ninianee said, and gave a sudden shake of her head as she saw Doms Guyon coming toward them. “What does he want?”

  “Don’t wrangle with him, Nin, please. Not now,” Erianthee pleaded. “We still need his help.”

  Ninianee sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Very well: I’ll be – “ She broke off as Doms came up to them.

  “Has the Imperial Scholar arrived? I saw the new visitor’s flag unfurled, and I wondered if it were he?”

  “No. His secretary,” said Erianthee, cutting off any sharp reply Ninianee might give.

  “Interesting,” said Doms.

  “How do you mean, interesting?” Ninianee asked.

  “Oh, just that I think I saw him with your seneschal and he hasn’t the manner of a secretary – nothing obsequious, nothing accommodating.” Doms looked from Erianthee to Ninianee. “Tell me what the spell-hound discovers, unless you think it will endanger you.”

  “Why should that be?” Ninianee asked, and saw one of the mewsmen approaching with Senkei, the most talented spell-hound. “Now you will see for yourself what this letter may contain.”

  Shodoch, the mewsman, brought Senkei up to the Duzeons and respected them. “What is it?” Before he could receive an answer, the spell-hound leaned forward, sniffing at the envelope.

  ‘There is something,” said Shodoch, and watched as Senkei sat, alert, one paw raised.

  “A magical message,” said Erianthee. “There is something more than what is in the writing.”

  Ninianee made up her mind quickly. “The Guardsroom by the main gate should be safe enough. If you will ask the men there to give us access to the room?” she asked Doms. “Eri, let’s get this done with.”

  “Do you think it’s dangerous?” Erianthee looked about the courtyard uneasily. “Is Hoftstan safe with the Scholar?”

  “I don’t think he’d do anything too bold. He’d never leave the Castle alive,” Dom promised. “And he would be condemned in death by Riast and all his lieutenants throughout the Porzalk Empire.”

  “Or we may be assuming the worst,” Ninianee said suddenly. “If we open the message, there may be a secondary – ”

  “Then let’s get it over with, now.” Erianthee took Ninianee’s arm and tugged her to follow after Doms Guyon, who was already at the door to the Guardsroom, ushering the soldiers there out into the courtyard.

  “Duzeons,” said Doms, bowing them into the small stone chamber, and closing the door for them.

  “What do you think? Shall we do this?” Erianthee asked as Ninianee held the letter up to the light from the high, narrow window.

  “The parchment’s too heavy to see through.” Ninianee observed, and took her knife from the sheath on her belt. “Better stand back.”

  “And say a bubble-spell, in case the letter-spell is harmful.” Erianthee made the protective passes and invoked the power of the remetrij to guard her.

  Ninianee did the same, then used the blade of her knife to pry up the seal on the letter. “Gremmi bontaj!” she swore as a filmy soot filled the air, eventually forming into a spectral figure resembling Zervethus Gaxamirin. On the letter, words suddenly became sharply defined and clear:

  Most worthy Duzeons, daughters of my old comrade, Nimuar of Vildecaz,

  I have taken this means of informing you that I will not be able to arrive at your Castle until the end of the Frozen Moon. Duties keep me here until then, and I ask you to pardon me for this delay. I am sending my secretary to assist you and to prepare for my arrival. I know you will find him useful. He is intelligent, trustworthy, and discreet. You may be sure of his confidence in all things.

  If you have not recovered your father by the end of the Hunters’ Moon, I will prepare to set out on my travels, which should take me twenty to twenty-three days to accomplish. If Nimuar has returned before then, Pareo will know how best to contact me so that I will not make such a long journey unnecessarily.

  I advise you to be diligent on your father’s behalf, particularly since Nimuar may not be able to protect himself when he is in peril; his defeat by the reprehensible Yulko Bihn damaged him, as you are aware, and he has not shown adequate caution when in danger, so you must look to provide it for him. I will add what I can to your efforts, and pledge myself to uphold his claims and rank during his absence.

  I offer my respect,

  Zervethus Gaxamirin

  Imperial Scholar and Magsto

  “Well,” said Erianthee as the words faded from the page. “What do you make of that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ninianee, and repeated, “I don’t know.” She paced away a short distance, then came back.

  “Is he going to come at all? Nin? What do you think?”

  “I don’t know, Eri,” she answered a bit more brusquely.

  “Do you think he will help our father?” Erianthee asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ninianee said again.

  * * *

  “I will arrange for a permanent sentry here,” said Hoftstan Ruch, to Ninianee as they walked the outer wall later that day for their semi-annual inspection, wanting to complete any necessary repairs before the rains of winter came.

  “Thank you,” said Ninianee, feeling a bit preoccupied, and not simply because the full moon was just three days away. “It will be difficult with Erianthee departing tomorrow. To say nothing of having this new fellow here – Pareo.”

  “She must leave,” said Hoftstan Ruch. “The Porzalk Emperor will be offended if she is not soon on her way.”

  “I know,” she said. “I know.” This second was more to herself.

  “Do you know when Magsto Gaxamirin will arrive?” He asked this in a tone that hid his anxiety.

  “According to his message, at the end of the Frozen Moon,” she replied.

  “The letter Pareo carried is genuine?”

  “As far as I can determine,” said Ninianee. As if to stop the disturbing turn of her thoughts, she asked, “How are your sons? And your wife? Her duties as Justice in Valdihovee seem to keep her away from Vildecaz Castle.”

  “So they do. Lumiren Koriat is well, although, I would like to see more of her. Kazhtal and Jenebij are doing well in their studies. Kazhtal will take up his formal apprenticeship after the turn of the year.”

  “And Rimdoch? How are things with him? Still fleecing travelers in Valdihovee?” Ninianee knew that Hoftstan’s middle son was a more difficult person, a boy with a talent for gambling who could not believe that there were others more gifted than he.

  Hoftstan sighed. “He worries me. He’s bragging about the money he won from Maeshar’s companions and their servants. It isn’t wise.”

  “Perhaps he should also be apprenticed – to a games-master?” Ninianee suggested. “If he has such an ability, let it be turned to good use.”

  “Perhaps.” Hoftstan was ob
viously not convinced.

  “Tell me you will consider it. Ask Lumiren Koriat what she thinks.”

  “I will, Duzeon. Soon.” Hoftstan stopped at another crack in the walls and pointed it out. “Nothing magical about this. The stones here are old and I can’t decide if they should be taken down and stronger stones be set in place.”

  Ninianee put her hand on the wall, feeling the texture of the stone. “We can’t rely on magic, that’s certain. We need real masons and real stones. Ask Macklei Dejcaz in Valdihovee to look at it, and follow his recommendation; hire his men to do the building. He will know what’s best.”

  “The bridgemaker?” Hoftstan sounded surprised.

  “Of course. He understands when stones have reached their limits. He is one of the highest Masters of the Brotherhood of Roadmakers and Bridgebuilders.”

  “Some say no stone ever does reach its limit,” said Hoftstan.

  “If that were true, there would be no sand on the beach, or in the wild places,” said Ninianee. “Let Dejcaz advise you, and follow his recommendations. His bridges are made without magic, and they stand against the worst weather and wear in all of Vildecaz.”

  “That I will,” said Hoftstan, as if relieved at having the decision taken away from him.

  “Very good,” Ninianee approved. “Now, Hoftstan Ruch, there is something I must discuss with you, something that must remain private between us.” She indicated a bench beneath a scrubby nard-needle tree. “We won’t be overheard here, and this side of the Castle is reinforced against spells. We won’t be disturbed or overheard here.”

  “As you wish, Duzeon.” He kept pace with her along the broad shelf high above the River Dej.

  “I can’t accustom myself to that title,” she said. “It is what my sister and I have become, but it is disconcerting.”

  “I should think so,” said Hoftstan, sitting down. “What is it?”

  “I have a desire to consult the Golozath Oracle.” She had remained standing, looking back toward the crags of the Valdishan Escarpment, where the Oracle was known to reside. “Before you tell me all the reasons I mustn’t do this, let me say that I have reached an impasse. Any trail my father may have left is gone so cold even the spell-hounds cannot find it. So I think I must do what I can to find out if he still lives, and if he left of his own will, or the will of others.”

  Hoftstan took a little time to answer. “I wish I could say this surprises me, but it doesn’t. I suppose I’ve known for some days that you would not be content to search the near-by peaks with an escort forever.”

  “There was nothing to find. The men and I scoured the mountains from the Library of Duz Kinzyrach to the border of Otsinmohr, and we have found no trace of him.” She folded her arms. “I am not able to sit and await developments.”

  “So you have hit upon something more that you can do,” said Hoftstan.

  “I would think you know me well enough to know that.” She offered him the same kind of smile she had shown him as a child.

  “But it troubles me, Duzeon. To have you and your sister away at the same time, that cannot be to our advantage.”

  “Magsto Zervethus Gaxamirin vouches for his secretary,” said Ninianee dubiously. “He says that Pareo is trustworthy and will manage the Duzky well.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. I can’t help but fear he may be a spy, or something worse.”

  “Does your sister agree?” Hoftstan asked.

  “Erianthee thinks it is a necessary precaution to accept him, at least for now.”

  “That is not a very reassuring answer,” said Hoftstan.

  “Neither of us feel entirely sanguine about the man. His manner is disconcerting and he is . . . troubling,” Ninianee admitted, and thought again how grateful she was that Doms was still at Vildecaz Castle.

  “And the Oracle: what does she think of that idea?” Hoftstan sounded a bit more stern.

  “She is wary of it, but sees that some such action is needed. She is worried as I am, and her talents, great as they are, do not lend themselves to hunting our father. She knows the Oracle can supply that which neither she nor I can, that is assuming the Oracle will agree to see me – or Erianthee, when she returns from Court. For now, it falls to me to try to gain an audience with the Oracle.” This wasn’t entirely accurate, for she and Erianthee had discussed the Oracle only in theory, not with the prospect of any immediate action.

  “And what will you offer the Oracle? You must have an acceptable offering or it is not worth the danger of the journey.”

  “You are always a model of fealty, ready to put the interests of this family ahead of your own,” said Ninianee gratefully. “I was thinking that it might be useful to take the Oracle the Drowned Worlds ivory vessel, the gift-cup of Bandikrion the Destinizer. It is valuable for both Bandikrion and the gems around its base.” The old chalice was a treasure, one that was known throughout Theninzalk, and admired everywhere; ordinarily it was only displayed on Bandikrion’s Day. Almost any magical master would be overjoyed to receive so munificent a token.

  “That . . . that is a present the Emperor would cherish,” said Hoftstan, shocked by such an extravagant offering.

  “That’s what I think, too. It also holds truth spells very well, and I will know how much of the Oracle’s words to believe; that is a sensible precaution when dealing with Oracles, or so everyone has said. I hope my father would approve of my using the chalice. Why do we have things of value but to trade them for things still more valuable?” She shrugged. “We have other treasures, but this seems the most appropriate. It is also smaller than most; I can carry it in a sack.”

  “That you can,” said Hoftstan. “I hope you will change your mind, but I will not insist upon it – not that it is my place to do so.” He considered Ninianee closely. “I assume you plan to go alone?”

  “The Golozath Oracle must be approached alone, or the peril is doubled,” said Ninianee. “They say it keeps trivial inquiries away. I’m not so afraid that I won’t make the attempt, but I will not put anyone else in danger.”

  “That is one way to look at it, I suppose,” said Hoftstan, knowing that he could say nothing now that would dissuade Ninianee from making the dangerous journey into the Valdishan Escarpment. “How soon will you go?”

  “After the full moon is past; a matter of days now,” she said promptly; she had no intention of approaching the Oracle while she was in her three nights of Changing. “Erianthee will be gone by then, and the deputy should have arrived.”

  “If the deputy isn’t here, what then?”

  “I guess I’ll have to wait until he gets here,” she said with marked displeasure; she could not afford any delay. “But he knows how urgent our situation is.”

  “I see,” said Hoftstan.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take a guide with me as far as the Sea-Eagle Inn, and will order him to wait for me. I will be alone for only two days – one to reach the Oracle from the inn, and one to return there.” The inn was an isolated one, famed for the harshness of its weather.

  “How long will you be gone?” Hoftstan asked.

  “I am estimating nineteen or twenty days, depending on the weather. If there is an early storm, perhaps a day or two more.” She gave an unguarded laugh. “You can’t imagine what I have decided to wear for the journey. It’s probably best that you don’t know.”

  “No doubt.” Hoftstan got up from the bench. “I’ll speak with Dejcaz as soon as your sister is on her way to the Emperor’s Court, and I’ll inform you of all he says. Will that suit you?”

  “Yes, it will. And I thank you for agreeing to keep my plans secret,” she said, her light-green eyes shining with determined mischief. “Particularly since you don’t approve.”

  Hoftstan refused to be goaded into a hasty retort; instead he changed the subject. “What about Doms Guyon? What does he think of your plan? Or does he know about any of this?”

  “If he does, it isn’t because I
told him — he has no part in this, no matter what he thinks,” she answered, blushing in spite of herself. “He has an uncanny ability to learn things, I know, but if he has discovered my plans he knows more than I do: I am still uncertain.”

  “Do you think he will be upset at your going? Might he not object to you undertaking so hazardous a missi – ”

  “I think he won’t find out about it until I’m gone,” said Ninianee with a firm edge of command in her response. “It isn’t as if he is my Official Suitor, to require information of me – in fact, I insist that he know nothing.”

  “He will not be pleased, if you go in such a way.” Hoftstan’s frown deepened. “He could become angry.”

  “That is for him to decide,” said Ninianee, dismissing the remark as completely as if she had slammed a door.

  Hoftstan knew it would be useless to say anything more, so he began to retrace his way along the path, noting to Ninianee that the cliff below would need some shoring up in a year or two. “I’ll put a spell on it for the time being, but it may be useful to ask Dejcaz about this.”

  “Of course. You understand these things better than I do,” said Ninianee, doing her best to smooth over any disagreement they may have created during their discussion.

  “You are a most clever Duzeon.”

  “You mean Duzna, just this once,” said Ninianee, missing her old title.

  With a hint of a laugh, Hoftstan said, “Very well: Duzna.”

  * * *

  “But I want mules to pull the baggage-carts, not ponies,” said Erianthee to Kloveon of Fauthsku as she looked over the trunks and cases piled in the courtyard. The day was waning and now was cooled by a rambunctious wind that threatened to make off with the heavy cloth covering the traveling gear. “Ponies are tough, but they haven’t the stamina of mules. You keep saying that Tiumboj is a hard journey, one that takes a lot out of human and beast. If I am to reach the Imperial city in good time, I’ll need mules, not ponies.”