The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (23 page)

“That breach in the wall last night. I wonder if it might have been some kind of diversion?” Erianthee was thinking aloud.

“A way to account for the spell-hounds crying?” Ninianee asked. “That would mean either he escaped or he was kidnapped.”

“I suppose it would.” Although she was still a bit lethargic, she forced herself to activity. “Come. We must talk with the Guards.”

“And the General, and Merinex, and Ver, and Hoftstan Ruch.” Ninianee gave her sister a brief hug. “The sooner we begin, the sooner we are finished.”

But look as they would throughout the Castle and its grounds, no one – not magicians, not servants, not soldiers, not spell-hounds – could find any trace of Nimuar. Distress spread throughout Vildecaz Castle as first one rumor and then another passed in whispers among its denizens: the Duz had finally completely lost his mind and had run off. No, the enemies of Vildecaz had sent emissaries to take him for ransom. No, the Porzalk Emperor had charged Yulko Bihn to murder the Duz and bear away his body. No . . . The variations were endless.

By nightfall, when Ninianee and Erianthee ordered the hunt stopped for a meal and a discussion of what had been learned, they came away more dejected than before. Leaving Kloveon and Doms to gather what information they could from the Night Guard, Ninianee and Erianthee went off to the south parlor where they could talk in relative privacy.

“I don’t know. Maybe ae-Miratdien is right, and Yulko Bihn has made off with him,” said Erianthee.

“But why would he do that? He’s already beaten him in magical dueling. Why would he want to take him now?” Ninianee asked.

“General Rocazin says that she is certain that Maeshar of Otsinmohr has taken him, to hold him for ransom, or to force Vildecaz into the Porzalk Empire at last.”

“If he wanted that, I would have supposed
he would have kidnapped me,” said Ninianee, only partly in jest.

“Well, whatever the cause, he is gone,” said Erianthee, doing her best not to cry.

“Yes,” said Ninianee, her face filled with determination. “And whatever the cause, we will have to find him.”

Ninianee and Erianthee sat in their private withdrawing room in Vildecaz Castle, each of them fretting and trying to conceal that from the other; it was now nineteen days since their father, Nimuar, Duz of Vildecaz, had disappeared, leaving them nominally in charge of the whole Duzky; rumors of his fate were everywhere but so far none of them had proved to be a genuine lead. The autumn was advancing, and the rains would arrive soon, but today was a fine, golden day that made the peaks of the Boarth Range glisten like jewels.

“The full moon will be here in six more days,” said Ninianee, foreboding clouding her striking features.

“We should make arrangements now,” said Erianthee.

“I don’t like to be so uncertain with the full moon – what if I should Change while hunting with an escort? I want to search on my own, so my Change will present no danger to me, or anyone else. If I’m with others, there could be trouble.” She had been out that day hunting again, on the pretext of supplying the kitchen and the Cook-General, Ver Mindicaz, with game, but also conducting a search for any sign of their father, and so was still dressed for riding in a bitter-green dolaj and bark-brown brikes with Mindicazin boots that came up to her knees; her curly, russet-colored hair was confined in a single braid down her back, and her only indication of rank was in her duzine wristlet.

“We’ll arrange something,” said Erianthee. “We always have.”

“But with Papa gone, we’re watched more closely,” Ninianee protested.

“So long as we are now unofficially Duzeons, I suppose we have to expect it. Heijot Merinex has added all manner of spells to the Castle, as well, so Changing within the walls isn’t safe.” Just the mention of the Vildecaz Castle household magician seemed an admission of capitulation; Erianthee stood and regarded Ninianee seriously while she put a small pearl in the cup held out by the offering statue of Lenchmai the Informer. “Perhaps I should delay my departure for the Porzalk Imperial Court. I could claim duzine duties keep me here.” She had been receiving guests from the Firnal of Lenj and the Kingdom of Waniat, nearby client countries of the Porzalk Empire, whose representatives were eager for her good opinion in anticipation of her arrival at the Emperor’s Court.

“You’re already done that twice, and the Emperor Riast will not be pleased if you do not arrive in time for the Zunah. We need his good opinion.” Ninianee studied her slightly younger sister with real concern. “He will not excuse your absence.”

“But I will stay through the Fading Light Festival, which ought to reassure him. It would not be an absence, in any case, merely a delay.” She tugged at a lock of her honey-blonde hair and smoothed the embroidered sleeve of her fine blue gaunel; it was lined in Fahnine-satin the color of pajiman grapes. She was dreading her journey, but tried to console herself with the realization that, of the two of them, she was the better skilled at Court life: she was the prettier sister, opulent-bodied and beautiful of features, with gorgeous pansy-brown eyes and a rich, arched mouth that were admired everywhere on the Theninzalk continent; Ninianee was more attractive than lovely, and had a disquieting feral quality that could not entirely be accounted for as a manifestation of her talent for communicating with animals, a quality that did not lend itself to grand occasions and formality. If one of them had to go, Erianthee knew that even had she no talent for Shadowshows, she would be the Duzeon to deal with the Emperor.

“That should help, but it might not be enough,” said Ninianee. “Once Zervethus Gaxamirin agrees to come here as our father’s deputy, we can devote ourselves to finding him and restoring him – ” She stopped her words, putting her long fingers to her mouth. There was no guarantee that the Imperial Scholar from Thenir would leave his studies to take on the custodial duties of the missing Duz, though a spell-message had been dispatched to him more than a week ago. “If only we had an ally here in the Duzky.” She touched the image of Nyolach, the Unexpected that ornamented the brooch at the top of the neck of her dolaj.

“Hoftstan Ruch is in a position to do that now,” said Erianthee, referring to the castle’s pursuivant and seneschal. “He knows all that anyone would need to know to manage this household.”

“But he isn’t of sufficient rank. Magsto Gaxamirin has authority that Ruch does not,” Ninianee said, frowning. “They say such considerations don’t matter when there is proper authorization, but since that only comes from us, and not our father – ” She gestured her frustration.

“Do you think our authorization would be challenged?” Erianthee lifted her head.

“I think it’s possible; I’m sure Maeshar of Otsinmohr would relish the opportunity to lay claim to Vildecaz, and our absence with only the staff to hold the Castle could give Maeshar all the excuse he needs to come here to . . . defend us,” said Ninianee; the name of their ambitious and obstreperous neighbor made her whole body tighten. “But I want to search for our father. I dislike staying here, day after day, as any last spell fades away from any trail he may have left, and he becomes harder to follow.”

“Kloveon has offered to return here once he delivers me to my second escort. He says a Mirkal should have enough authority to govern while we’re gone. He has offered to remain through the winter.” As she mentioned her determined suitor, she was shocked to discover she was blushing.

“Beyond his fascination with you, why should the Mirkal of Fauthsku protect Vildecaz?” Ninianee realized she had spoken too bluntly, and she did her best to soften her sharp observation, “Not that he would not uphold any oath he made to you and to Vildecaz.”

“And what about Doms Guyon?” Erianthee prompted Ninianee, comparing suitor for suitor. “A Yaolaj is nearly the equal to the Emperor. If he were to assume control of the Duzky . . . ”

“If he
is
a Yaolaj,” said Ninianee, her face darkening with doubt. Galling as it was to think it of the intriguing juggler-and-troubador from the Drowned World, it was possible that this claim was another of his illusions – the kind that were based on words, not magic.

“It is a problem,” said Erianthee. “I don’t know why you distrust him so much; he is truly devoted to you.”

“I distrust him because I would like to believe him,” said Ninianee brusquely. “If he were nothing more than an entertainer, it would be otherwise.”

“Zlatz, no,” said Ninianee, making no apology for such mild swearing; in the last ten days she had said much, much worse.

“Don’t worry, Nin, we’ll think of something,” said Erianthee, her attention commanded by a gong from the Great Hall, three floors below them.

“What now?” Ninianee asked the air, but turned with her sister to leave the room.

“Probably another visitor,” said Erianthee, and whistled to the spell-hound that guarded their door, summoning him to follow them down to greet the new arrivals.

* * *

The carriage was not new but it was well-made and the horses pulling it were not the usual rough breed of carriage horses. The figure who alighted was tall and spare, his face showing more than a little hauteur as he looked around the courtyard. He held a long, flat box which he offered to the Guard who approached him. “The visitor’s flag of my master, Zervethus Gaxamirin, Imperial Scholar, who has pledged to arrive here in six weeks. Because of his delay, he has sent me in his stead, to manage this duzky for his old friend until he can come himself.” He noticed Ninianee and Erianthee coming toward him, and made an off-handed respect.

“Duzeons,” said the Guard, with a profound respect.

The stranger concealed a start of surprise, and spoiled his recovery by asking. “Duzeons? The two of you?”

“Duzeon Erianthee,” said Ninianee, indicating her sister. “And I am Ninianee. Other than the servant of Zervethus Gaxamirin, whom do we welcome to Vildecaz Castle?”

“I am Rai Pareo, secretary to the Imperial Scholar, and just now, his deputy here.” He respected the sisters again, this time with great display.

Ninianee returned the respect but with less flourish. “Pareo – you are from Fah?”

“Yes,” said Pareo. “But I have been with Magsto Gaxamirin for ten years and more.” He reached inside his gaihups and drew out a sealed letter bearing the stamp of the Imperial College of Porzalk. “Magsto Gaxamirin sends you this, to explain my mission on his behalf.”

Erianthee took the letter and respected the seal. “I thank you, Scholar Pareo. My sister and I will retire to examine this.” She handed the letter to Ninianee.

“In the meantime,” Ninianee said, raising her voice, “Hoftstan Ruch. We have a visitor who would appreciate your attention.”

“And General Rocazin. She will arrange for a proper suite of rooms for you, and your servants, if any.” Erianthee managed to make this sound courteous.

“Thank you, Duzeons. I have one servant, a coachman, and a footman, as you see.” He waved his arm grandly. “This is a most . . . most interesting place. Not the kind of fortifications we see in Tiumboj.”

Ninianee smiled, but it was all glitter and no cordiality. “You wouldn’t, would you? Tiumboj is on a plain, we are in steep mountains.” She saw Hoftstan Ruch hurrying toward them. “Ah. Our pursuivant and seneschal. This is Scholar Pareo, dispatched by Imperial Scholar Gaxamirin to prepare the way for the Magsto’s arrival.”

“Would you take him about the Castle so he may acquaint himself with it? He may see the whole of it. Answer his questions and help General Rocazin to house him and those servants he brings? You will find us in our father’s study, when you have finished your task.”

Hoftstan looked puzzled, but he respected the Duzeons in good form. “Of course.” He then respected the new arrival. “Scholar Pareo, you are welcome at Vildecaz Castle. If you will come with me?” He indicated the nearest door.

“Certainly,” said Pareo, apparently disgusted that neither Duzeon would show him about the Castle. He followed Hoftstan slowly, as if he did not want to be parted from the two young women.

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?”