Antiagon Fire (36 page)

“Before we talk about the Council … you have a cook and a maid here for you. It is best that the lady not eat with the men, but we have set up a mess for the troopers and officers.”

“I’m a bit confused,” said Quaeryt. “You didn’t know that the Lady Vaelora was coming, but now you’re saying that she shouldn’t eat with the men.”

“Not if she is to be treated as your equal as an envoy. That would indicate she is not
Eherelani.
”

“
Eherelani
?”

“Of the wise women … the ones to be revered. They eat alone or with family or equals. They are few.” Calkoran paused. “I would have suggested the same for you, sir, had you been the sole envoy.”

“What can you tell us about the
Eherelani
?”

“They often have the sight … the visions … one of the High Councilors is
Eherelani.
” Calkoran shrugged. “The
Eherelani
speak only to whom they wish.”

Quaeryt could see he wasn’t about to learn more about the wise women, not from Calkoran. “What about supplies?”

“The High Council has been kind enough to provide provisions.”

“We will need to thank them.” Quaeryt paused, then asked, “When should we meet with the High Council, and what should we know?”

“The High Council will meet with you tomorrow, I would think. I will make certain, but Councilor Khaliost said they would talk to you on the morning after you arrived. The others … I am here on sufferance.” Calkoran shook his head. “They believe that Khel will never fall again, that without the Red Death it would not have happened.”

“The Red Death may have caused its fall,” said Quaeryt, “but how many would be left if Bhayar sent his armies into Khel?”

“The question they will not ask, sir, is whether you will lead those armies.”

“I would rather it not come to that. If the armies come, there will be great destruction that I cannot prevent, and there will follow a horde of factors and traders. If the High Council agrees to terms Lord Bhayar will accept, there will be no armies, and that will leave Khel free to deal with any hordes of factors.”

“Do you know that?”

“That is what he has told me. In fifteen years he has never lied to me.”

“Would that other rulers could have that said.” Calkoran laughed ruefully. “They will not believe you, you know?”

“That is what we fear. How many armsmen do they have here?”

“None, except for us. The people in the town have arms. All Pharsi in Khel do, but there are few men left to wield them, and not that many young women. Still, the older men and women could fight. They would not do well against armsmen, and I think they would prefer not to fight.”

“Do you think they’re stalling, waiting for some sort of reinforcements?”

“I would think not, but as I told you, they trust me not, and they have told me little.” Calkoran snorted. “We fought and fought, first here, and then later … to bring down the Bovarians … and they will say little.”

For the first time, Quaeryt could sense anger and exasperation on the subcommander’s part, and he certainly couldn’t blame the man. “They owe you more than they know.”

Surprisingly, Calkoran shook his head. “If a Pharsi of Khel acknowledges a debt, he will do much to repay it, but no Pharsi likes to be told he owes a debt when it was not his own choice to incur it. Nor will a Pharsi trust a man who has not done as he promised, no matter why.”

“What did you do?” asked Quaeryt, involuntarily, wishing he hadn’t as he did, and quickly adding, “Even when you all fought to keep Kharst from conquering Khel?”

“I did my best, as I saw it, and I failed. There is no debt in failure.”

“But you returned to help destroy him.”

“They only grudge my presence, I tell you, Commander.”

“Can I find a way to make it not so?”

Calkoran’s smile was wintry. “I hope so, but I have my doubts.”

“We’ll think it over and talk in the morning. Seventh glass?”

“I will be here. If you need me sooner, we are in the barracks to the south.” Calkoran inclined his head.

After Calkoran left, Quaeryt turned to Vaelora. “Did you notice that no one in town was interested or surprised to see us?”

“Calkoran’s men have been riding through town for weeks. That might be why.”

“That’s possible, but it still bothers me.”

“What else bothers you?”

“Calkoran being here on sufferance because he failed to stop the Bovarians.”

“Pharsi can be very stiff-necked, dearest.”

I do know that.
“The other thing is that everything is too quiet. We’re expected. Everything is in order.”

“You think that they plan a surprise?”

“I don’t think they plan an attack, but I suppose it’s possible.”

“Why don’t you go talk to Zhelan and the undercaptains while I wash up?”

“You have a double purpose in mind.”

“Of course.”

“But bolt the door while I’m gone.”

“I will.”

Quaeryt smiled wryly as he left the bedchamber on his way to the barracks or whatever the building in which first company was quartered might have been called.

36

By the time Quaeryt had finished discussing matters with Zhelan, then asked the Pharsi imagers to listen to everything they could, and returned to the building that had likely been the compound commandant’s quarters, Vaelora had washed and changed. He did the same, and they repaired to the parlor, graced by matching wall hangings on the interior facing walls, one showing an empty courtyard garden in spring and another depicting the same garden in fall. They had barely seated themselves in armchairs before the serving maid appeared and spoke.

“I think we’re being called to dinner,” said Vaelora.

They rose and followed the maid across the narrow center corridor into the dining room.

Colored hangings were centered on the end walls, finished in an off-white plaster, as was the bedchamber. The table and chairs had been crafted from the same honey-colored wood as the bedstead in the main bedchamber. Into the back of each chair was carved a tree, a different variety, Quaeryt thought, from a quick glance. Two places were set, across from each other at the end of table farthest from the curtained archway to the kitchen.

The serving maid gestured to the seats, ambiguously, and Quaeryt guided Vaelora to the one facing toward the windows, although he could not have said why, seating her before he seated himself.

The serving maid half filled the two heavy goblets with a clear liquid from a pitcher, beginning with Vaelora. Then, setting the pitcher on the table, she slipped through the curtained archway to the kitchen, returning in moments with two bowls, placing one first before Vaelora, and then the other before Quaeryt. When she finished, she inclined her head to Vaelora. After the slightest hesitation, Vaelora nodded in return, and the server retreated behind the curtain, although Quaeryt had no doubt that she was still observing them.

“You’re positioning me as the superior,” Vaelora said quietly. “Why?”

“I can’t explain, not in a logical way. It’s just a feeling.”

“Like why it’s better that I don’t eat with the officers and men?” asked Vaelora. “I’ve been doing that all the time. No one said anything in Sovahl, and I was the only woman there. No one in my family ever mentioned anything about that. I’ve never heard of either
Eherelani
or Erlani. Not before now, I mean.”

“Neither have I.”

“You still haven’t said why you’re deferring so obviously to me.”

“As I said … a feeling … and because your great-grandmere was likely an imager with the farsight who had enough power to sleep alone.”

“That’s not the same.” Vaelora sipped the clear liquid in her goblet. “This is good.”

“Better than the beer in Sovahl?”

“Much better. I can’t say what it is, but it’s strong.” She set the goblet down.

Quaeryt sipped from his goblet. “I’d guess that it’s a white ice wine of some sort.”

“Are these
Eherelani
the same as the Eleni that Arion mentioned?”

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to him in the morning before we meet with Calkoran.” He looked down at orangish liquid in the bowl. “Do you want to try the soup? I think it’s soup.”

“The spoons are thin … too thin for soup. These look like the bowls … you’re supposed to use the bowls like cups and sip it right from them.”

“Something you remember?”

Vaelora nodded, then lifted the bowl.

Quaeryt followed her example. The soup tasted like a combination of apricot and squash, a mixture that was almost too sweet for him.

Vaelora, on the other hand, was smiling when she finished her bowl. “That was good. It tastes familiar, but I can’t remember…” She shook her head.

“Something from when you were a child?”

“Probably.”

Although Quaeryt had not finished the soup, and did not intend to, as soon as she was through, the server returned and removed the bowls, then appeared with two platters, again serving Vaelora first. On the platter were parchment-thin slices of dark meat, interspersed with equally thin slices of what appeared to be cheese of some sort, both covered with a light orange-colored glaze.

After his experience with the soup, Quaeryt looked at his platter closely. Vaelora had no such trepidation, taking the angular knife and equally angular two-tined fork in hand, cutting off a section, and eating it. “You should try this, dearest. The meat is some kind of fowl, I think, a little strong, but the mixture with the cheese and the apricot glaze is quite good.”

Quaeryt took a much smaller morsel than she had. While he would not have been quite so enthusiastic as his wife, he did have to admit that the combination was in fact rather tasty, and better than the goat stew of the night before. “What kind of fowl, would you think?”

“Something not too tame. The meat’s rather dark.”

Quaeryt took another sip of the clear ice wine, if that indeed were what it happened to be, and found that it cleared the taste of the main dish. He took another bite, and it tasted better than the first … or he was getting used to it. “What do you think of the house?”

“It’s much better than most of the quarters we’ve had. The furnishings show good crafting and taste, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s a little … cold … as if … well … as if no one really lived here.”

“That could be because it’s been used as guest quarters. Still, that raises another question. This dwelling has been kept up. Why? For whom? Especially if Kharst was ruling all of Khel.”

“It would have to have been as quarters for guests of the High Council, then,” replied Vaelora.

“That would mean that Kharst never really controlled more than the larger towns and cities, then, and there has been a shadow Pharsi government here for years, most likely for the entire time Kharst claimed Khel.”

“Wouldn’t that make sense?” asked Vaelora.

“It would, but it’s going to make our job harder. Much harder. Unless we can get the High Council to agree to a unified system of government, Bhayar will have even more problems than Kharst did.”

“Because he can’t seem to be weak, but doesn’t operate through fear and terror?”

Quaeryt nodded.

When Vaelora had finished eating, the server appeared and removed both platters, reappearing immediately with smaller plates. On each was a small pastry, with a flaky crust, garnished with mint leaves that had been marinated in some liquid. The dessert turned out to be honeyed pastry folded around a nut-apricot filling, and drizzled with a sweet mint syrup.

“The cook has gone to great lengths on this dinner,” Quaeryt said, “as has the server.”

“They don’t want to offend us.”

“Or you,” he added.

“How much do you think they worry about what Bhayar might do?”

“They do worry, I’d guess, but they’ll try to avoid committing to anything without creating more reasons for Bhayar to attack. At the very least, they’ll want time to rebuild Khel.”

“Once Bhayar’s made a decision, he’s not likely to change his mind.”

“No.” Quaeryt shook his head slowly. “That’s something we both know.”

After they finished eating, Quaeryt stood, moved to the other side of the table, and eased back Vaelora’s chair as she rose. “I’d like to look at each room before we retire.”

“What are you looking for?”

“If I knew,” he replied, “I wouldn’t have to look.”

She laughed gently as they moved from the dining room back to the front sitting room, sparsely furnished with an upholstered settee, two armchairs, two side tables, and a narrow sideboard before the window. The honey-colored wood had been used for all the furniture, and for the interior window shutters. As in Sovahl, there were no curtains or hangings flanking the windows. On the single interior wall without a window or a door was another hanging, this one displaying a vineyard in harvest, with golden grapes, some in baskets, some still on the vines, but without a single person.

The front study also featured the same honey-wood furniture, but the single interior wall was comprised of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, although there were only a few dozen volumes. Quaeryt removed several and opened them. One was written in Bovarian, the others presumably in Pharsi.

Later, as he lay in the darkness beside a sleeping Vaelora, his thoughts circled back, time and time again, to the same question.

What are you missing?

37

Quaeryt woke early on Samedi morning with at least a partial answer to the question that had plagued him the night before.

“That’s it,” he murmured as he sat up in the bed.

“What’s it?” murmured Vaelora.

“Except for this headboard”—he gestured—“have you seen a single picture, sculpture, or carving of people since we came to Saendeol?”

Vaelora frowned, then turned to study the headboard. “You can’t see any faces here.”

Quaeryt turned and looked at the carving on the top of the headboard. He hadn’t noticed that before, but the figures were depicted in such a way that no facial features were shown. “You’re right.”

“What do you think that means? That showing people’s faces gives others power over them? Or that the Pharsi here in Khel feel that it’s disrespectful?”