Agnith's Promise: The Vildecaz Talents, Book 3

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “Yes,” she agreed, her happiness beginning to well within her. “Come into the other room. We can be private there.”

  “In your bedroom?” His apprehension was more because of the potential for physical distraction than any questions of courtesy.

  “Not even the Emperor will interrupt us if the door is closed.” She smiled at him, her brown eyes luminous.

  “Then we’d be wise to close the door,” he said, and took her hand as she led the way into her bedroom.

  “If you want to sit in a chair, there are three to choose from. I’ll take one of those you don’t.” She glanced at the bed and the package which had contained her new clothes set out on it. “I think it would be pushing matters for either of us to sit there, don’t you?”

  “True enough. I wouldn’t vouch for my keeping my hands off you if we were on the bed, no matter how noble my intentions,” he said, and chose the broadest, most comfortable chair. “We can both sit in it.” To demonstrate, he sank into the cushions, and patted the space beside him.

  “Perhaps in half an hour,” she said, pulling up a high-backed, damask-upholstered chair. She sat down, leaning forward so that she could continue to hold his hand.

  He sighed. “You’re probably right,” he allowed.

  “I know. I, too, would rather share the bed. It would be such a delight, and comfort just now. And it could be illuminating.” She turned an imploring gaze on him. “If we weren’t in so much danger, I’d want to give into our desires. But that could be more risky still.”

  “I can’t argue with you,” he conceded. “But I’m looking forward to the time when we can.”

  “I am, as well.” She looked up sharply as if struck by a sudden insight. “How much have you told Riast? When you spoke to me, before the conjure-storm, you said many things that might be useful now.”

  “About Bozidar, you mean?” He considered the question. “I have spoken with the Emperor twice since then, and I’ve said as much as I think I can support through the experience of others, which isn’t a great deal. I’ve tried to avoid speculation.”

  “And what has Riast said?”

  “Only that his magicians don’t concur about Bozidar’s role in all this. Some say he is part of it, some say he has been made a scapegoat by the real traitors.”

  Erianthee scowled. “And what do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” he said miserably. “One day it seems that Bozidar is the culprit, another day it seems that he is nothing more than a tool, and still on another day, his apparent allies are Bozidar’s tools.”

  “But you’re not part of any of it?” There was an edge to this question and she made no apology for it.

  “No. No, of course not,” he said impatiently. “I’ve stumbled into this by some kind of accident, and I’m still stumbling.” This admission made him uncomfortable.

  “Then something must be done,” said Erianthee, and her hold on his hand tightened.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked, anxiety mixing with hope as he gazed into her face.

  “Well,” said Erianthee, speaking more briskly than before. “I think I’ll tell the Emperor that I’ve decided to try to do a prophetic Shadowshow for him, but I’ll have a number of conditions to impose, including ten days to prepare. I might not be able to command the Spirits of the Outer Air to prophesy, but I think I can keep you from being implicated in whatever is going on, and that’s more important than prediction.” Unless, she added unhappily to herself, Kloveon really is part of the conspiracy, in which case, I may reveal him as a traitor. She released his hand. “I’m going to change, so I’ll greet Riast properly. If you want to wait in my dressing-room, the Emperor need never know you’re here.”

  Although Kloveon was startled by the abrupt change in Erianthee, he rose and bent over to kiss her again – much more lightly this time, but still with passion – and said, “I shouldn’t want you to do this, but I thank you from the limits of my veins.”

  “I hope you will feel the same way when the Shadowshow is done,” she told him even as she waved him away toward the dressing-room, her mind already preoccupied with framing an explanation for her change of mind that she could offer the Emperor.

  3. Turning-Points

  This time Ninianee was a wallow-moj – albeit a small one – her shoulders and back bristling with short, dark hairs, her blocky body strong and dense, her long snout ending in a flexible, short trunk flanked by two down-turning, business-like tusks. She gouged the wood of the hut with her three-toed hooves, and she managed to break the table and some crockery as well as send the ponies and mules in the adjoining barn into semi-hysterics with her carrying on. Finally, after gobbling half the sack of new grain for the animals, she fell heavily asleep on the dampest part of the stable’s floor and snored loudly until just before dawn when she returned to human shape. Catching sight of Doms Guyon as he stirred up the fire in the central stove, she stared at him, abashed at what she had done that she couldn’t remember.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, coming to drop her sajah over her naked body. “Your rampage was a small one. Tomorrow night you won’t be so rambunctious. I’ll help you back to the room as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Do you think anyone saw me?” She hated to ask, but feared not knowing more than having unwelcome knowledge.

  “Most people stay away from wallow-mojes,” he said wryly.

  “Just as well,” she mumbled, huddling into her sajah. “By Nyolach, the Unexpected, I’m sore.” She rubbed her shoulders, then her neck. “I hope I didn’t – “

  ”Nothing that isn’t standard behavior for a wallow-moj indoors, as far as I can determine. You broke the grooms’ table and attacked one of the chairs, but nothing too drastic, as you can see.” He indicated the small stack of broken bits of table and a few sections of a fractured water-ewer.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Doms, I’m so sorry.” To her chagrin, she was becoming distraught. “I didn’t mean to do any of this.”

  “I know that, and you needn’t apologize. I would imagine that the wallow-moj is frightened and angry, being contained in so small a place as this stable,” he said calmly. “And they’re naturally bad-tempered,” filled in Ninianee, not expecting any pardon, but rather intending to explain how it had come about.

  “That, too,” he said, still showing no signs of disgust. “But, you know, I’m kind of grateful for this Change – it gives me some idea of what you’re capable of doing.”

  “Don’t say that,” she beseeched him. “You can’t mean it.”

  “But I do, and in no way that discredits you, so you don’t have to read anything into what I tell you that’s to your detriment,” he told her with only a slight hint of upset in his words. “Since I’m your Official Suitor, I should learn as much as I can about your Changing, for both our sakes, as I’m apt to see a fair number of them.”

  She couldn’t keep from saying, “What makes you think that experiencing a wallow-moj improves your suitorship?”

  Doms grinned at her. “If you’d been a large jeneie-fox, all I would have had to do is keep you from hiding in the nearest river, but a wallow-moj, even a small one, now that needs some planning and accommodation. You can’t ignore a wallow-moj. At least you weren’t a drouch.”

  “I might have been,” she reminded him. “I may be, some day.”

  “Then that’s for later,” said Doms, and went to bring her a cup of nut-milk. “Drink this. I got it from one of the scullions about ten minutes ago. It'll make you stronger. That wallow-moj took a lot out of you last night, I can see it in your eyes. You must be famished.”

  “Thank the Six Founder Gods and Goddesses, we weren’t in any larger place than this, or even one so small as Lagee,” she said, thinking of the small village where they had been two nights before. “I don’t like to think how far the word would spread about me, and how it would be embellished, had I Changed in either place.”

  “That’s important,” he said a bit oblique
ly as he tended the increasing fire. “But, Ninianee, surely you don’t think you can go on without ever dealing with your Change in the presence of strangers. No matter how well you plan, what happened at Chogrun’s Court will happen again, and you and I will have to be ready to deal with it. You would do well do glory in your Change, not shrink from it.” He paused and looked toward her. “As long as you do this – as long as you hide your Changing – your talent will not be an asset to you, but a detriment, and what could be your greatest strength will remain a weakness. It would break my heart to see you become less than all you are. I hope you don’t intend to remain ashamed of your Changing for the rest of your life.”

  “Would it trouble you? That I continue to conceal my Changing?” She asked this very softly.

  “Yes, because it troubles you,” he answered at once. “There has to be some way to make your transformation an advantage.”

  She wanted to weep, but kept her tears at bay – this was not the time to give vent to flailing emotions. “You’re being wonderful about the Change, but it can’t have been any fun for you, having to share this small space with a wallow-moj, let alone deal with the animals and grooms.”

  “The ponies and mules didn’t like it. They set up quite a racket, whinnying and braying and kicking. The grooms stayed in their quarters with a flask of eayon-brandy for company, and if they noticed anything, they’ll credit it to drunkenness. For me, I found it . . . intriguing. Perhaps tonight when you Change, you can let me know what the wallow-moj is feeling. You should have more comprehension tonight, shouldn’t you?”

  “I assume so,” she said quietly. “At least I should be able to be more aware of myself during the Change.”

  “Then let’s plan to make an effort to determine what the wallow-moj represents, or why you have taken on that form this time. It may be random, but I suspect there’s more to it than blind chance.”

  “If there is a pattern to my Changes, I’ve yet to detect it,” she said, shoving herself onto her knees.

  He took her hands and helped her to stand, as well as keeping the sajah around her. “You’ll need breakfast soon. What would you like me to order?”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to eat,” she said, a little unsteady on her legs.

  “You’ll need its strength,” he said. “The wind is picking up, and we need to get back into our suite before someone sees you.”

  She stared down at her feet, suddenly unwilling to meet his eyes. “I hope this hasn’t all been for nothing – coming so far with no news of my father, and . . . and all the rest of it.”

  “I don’t consider it nothing,” he said as he turned her to the closed stable-door. “You have accepted me as your Official Suitor – that wouldn’t have happened if you’d stayed home, would it?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and started her toward the door, walking slowly while she regained her footing.

  “Probably not,” she allowed.

  “And you wouldn’t have spoken with the Golozath Oracle – “

  ” – who might have led me astray,” she said with a rush of sadness.

  “It’s possible. And it may be that the Oracle spoke true, but in such a way as you might interpret what it said amiss. Oracles are often deliberately ambiguous, making sense after the fact, not before. You said the Oracle was terse – that may have been as much to limit its information as to be brusque with you.” He laughed gently. “But how would you have felt if you hadn’t spoken with the Oracle? Suppose you had remained in Vildecaz, with no information of any kind. It wouldn’t reassure you, would it, to be in ignorance of any possible intelligence. Without some suggestions to guide you, you would flounder and blame yourself for your father’s absence. Your doubts would be much greater than they are, and you would still be trying to find your father, no matter what.”

  “I probably would,” she said, reluctantly leaning against him. “But I’m afraid that I could search all the towns and villages in the north and still not find him. And I can’t take the years that would be needed to make such a search – I can’t stay away from Vildecaz much longer, but I don’t want to abandon my father.”

  “You have done your utmost to find him, and that’s all anyone – god, goddess or human – can require.” He watched her while she mulled this over. “You have done what you swore to do, and you have done it well. No one could ask more of you, Ninianee.”

  “Does that mean you think he’s gone for good?” She wanted to shake him, but instead turned a steady stare on him. “Do you think this search has been useless? or a waste of time, because I’m beginning to think so. The farther we travel, the more remote he becomes.”

  Doms lifted the bolt holding the door closed and let in the first, icy breath of morning. “I hope you can find your father, and I’ll help you to the limits of my strength. If I were missing, I would hope you would search as diligently for me as you do for Duz Nimuar.”

  Ninianee didn’t know how to respond so she nodded. Preoccupied with her jumbled supposings, she began to think aloud. “If I have misunderstood the Oracle, then the fault of it is upon me, and I am the one who must take the consequences of it. I should have asked more specific questions, and in a more cogent way, so the Oracle could provide its laconic answers that were also clearly comprehensible. The Oracle is said to speak truly, and I will accept that; I didn’t think I was misled, but I may have been.” She swallowed hard.

  “I’m not saying you are,” said Doms. “But I am saying that such misreading is easily done. Think of the tale of Parmentoj and the xanji – even the god misunderstood what the xanji told him. If a god can misapprehend an Oracle, what must we mortals do?” He lifted her into his arms so that she wouldn’t have to walk barefoot on the ice-coated paving stones. “You, of all people, should be able to see the straight path through the tangle of clever words. But prophesy is more than subtle phrases and mixed meaning, and not even the most powerful magicians can remain wholly free from confusion. You are doing what seems right, and I can’t argue with that.” He continued to walk toward the inn, then asked, “Do you want to turn back? If you do, I’ll travel with you.”

  “No – I don’t think so, not yet. And I’ll decide if we go north or east at the crossroad. The Kingdom of Waniat or Eltsigaranth – we shall see before the day after tomorrow is half over,” she said, glancing anxiously toward the side-door of the inn. “Will they notice us?”

  “Or south, and then west, if you decide to return home, or seek out the magicians of Fah,” he reminded her. “You have those options as well.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “You’re right. I’m beginning to think I need to find another way to search for Duz Nimuar other than hunting him this way. But no magician has been able to pick up any trace of him, so what else am I to do? If he’s to be found, an effort has to be made. At the same time, I’m very uneasy about Vildecaz. I hadn’t thought to be gone so long, and I don’t know that Erianthee has returned yet. She should be back before the end of the Thirteenth Month. Hoftstan and Poyneilum Zhanf are honorable caretakers but – “

  ” – it isn’t the same thing. You want to see for yourself that all is as it should be, and to set to rights anything that has gone wrong. I do understand.” He went through the door and set Ninianee down.

  “Yet you’ve been gone from the Drowned World for years at a time,” she said.

  “I’ve stayed away from the Drowned World for a long time to keep from annoying my father, but still I worry for the safety of the place, as I was brought up to do. Don’t misunderstand me – I like my unfettered life, but I don’t expect it to last. Much as it galls me, I know I am Yaolaj much more than I am a troubadour.” He nudged her in the direction of the stairs.

  “Why don’t you go back?” she asked.

  He shook his head slowly. “From time to time I make the attempt, but inevitably there is a clash. When I’m allowed to return without limitations upon me, I’ll begin to do the things I believe it is my duty to do, but for now, for the
sake of the land, I’ll stay away.”

  “Why are you and your father at odds?” she pursued, her curiosity running ahead of her good manners.

  “It’s a long, dull story, I’m afraid. My father is a man of orthodox habits. He follows tradition, and I, as you know, do not. I have tried to maintain the old ways, but not to the exclusion of the new, which my father sees as a failing in my character and dangerous for the Drowned World. So my father, Yao Delionaj, thinks me desperate and disrespectful, and I think he’s mired in outmoded ways. He and I cannot meet without exchanging harsh words. I don’t know that we’ll ever come to any real mutual understanding. We’re both too wedded to our positions. I remain his loving son, but his rebellious subject, and the latter is more important to me than the former.” He went ahead of her to open the door to their suite. “I do love him, but I can’t say that I like him very much – nor he me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear this. I didn’t realize your disagreement was so entrenched.” Ninianee walked more normally now, covering the distance between them without effort or hesitation “Thank you,” she said, following him into the main room. “Having hooves can make my hands sore.”

  “”I wondered about that,” said Doms, closing the door and setting the lock. “As you were Changing last night, you kept fussing with your . . . front feet.”

  “I’ll do the same tonight,” she warned him.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it.” He reached out and helped her to sit in the best chair. “It’s time you put some clothes on.”

  “At least I got out of the ones I was wearing before they were completely torn apart,” she said.

  “Our timing’s improving,” he said lightly, turning away from her.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing to worry you, Ninianee,” he said, and deliberately turned back to her. “It is a trial of my patience, seeing you naked.”

  Her answer was quick and abrupt. “It doesn’t have to be.”