The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (27 page)

“Goriach Elet is the Emperor’s archmagistrate in Udugan,” Erianthee reminded him.

“And I am a Mirkal, and my rank should take precedence,” said Kloveon darkly. “Not that that matters when Emperor Riast gives the orders. He has more trouble with Udugan than Fauthsku, so accommodates Udugan far more than Fauthsku. It’s beyond anything I can do.”

This reminder of the conflicts between Udugan and Fauthsku daunted her, for she was reminded that Kloveon was as committed to Fauthsku as she was to Vildecaz, and his motives for wooing her were not free of secondary intentions. She wished she had the talent to discern truth the way Hoftstan Ruch’s wife Lumiren Koriat could. “Then we must deal with what we can. Such as whether or not to raise the silk tent.”

“It is appropriate, Duzeon.” He was as dusty as she, and as he slapped the front of his dolaj, he went on more steadily. “They can set up the bath for you. The pavilion is large enough to accommodate it. There’s water enough in the stream and a spell or two should keep the water warm for a while.”

“I would love a bath,” she admitted, and blushed, annoyed at herself for being so obvious. “I think I must have dust in every part of my body. My clothes will be scoured away if we have much more dust to endure.”

“Think instead of mud,” Kloveon suggested.

“Why mud?”

“My body-servant – “

”Rakin Moricaz?” Erianthee supplied.

“Yes. He has a talent for weather-witching. He’s the one who’s kept the weather so clear. But he says there is a storm coming tomorrow afternoon, one he can’t shift to the north or the south. It should last two days. And then we will be in Udugan and I must depart.” Suddenly he took her arms and pulled her toward him, kissing her with kindled passion. He let her go almost as suddenly as he had embraced her and took a step back from her, speaking with unusual reserve. “Think about it. Wouldn’t you like to spend the storm here, in a silken tent protected by Rakin’s weather-spell?” He motioned to the last raveled ribbons of sunset fading in the twilight sky. “There are signs for a change. Tomorrow will not be as pleasant as today has been, no matter what Rakin does.”

Trying to conceal how dazed she felt, Erianthee strove to gather her thoughts. “I would, but we must be at Ganveth River in a day, and over it by the day after, mud or no mud,” she reminded him, grateful for once for such mundane considerations. “It would be inappropriate to keep Goriach Elet waiting only for our comfort.” And to delay our separation, she added inwardly.

“You’re a stickler,” he said, half-teasing, half-regretful, his smile fading as soon as he produced it.

“As are you, Kloveon,” she said, thinking that for all his gallantry, he was determined to fulfill his commission and bring her safely to the rendezvous with Hajmindor Elet, as much for the benefit of the Emperor as for her.

As if sensing her reservations, “I have my obligations – to the Emperor, to Fauthsku, and to you. My tie to you is the most profound. I have said so before, but you still continue to doubt me.”

She folded her arms, taking what she hoped – impossibly – was a boyish stance, for her traveling gear was intended to conceal her identity, and she fancied she had done a good job of
it
. “After all we have done to remain inconspicuous – simple carts and carriages, small escort, two waiting-women who also cook – don’t you think setting up a red-silk tent would be a trifle obvious?”

“I think that where we are it would be wise to make your presence known.” He motioned to the escort – just now out of their saddles and preparing to set up a fire for their evening meal, while the wagons were drawn up together, the mules pulling them allowed to graze – “Ask them, Erianthee. They’ll say the same thing. Ask Hallis ae-Perqueon.”

Erianthee nodded. As all the travelers knew, Hallis ae-Perqueon, their guide, had a talent for short-term precognition that made him especially useful. “A good idea. Very well. I will.” With that, she trudged across the meadow to where ae-Perqueon was sharing a generous sip of Jenri-cordial dispensed from Dryach’s large flask. As head muleteer, Dryach was allowed a double-ration of strong drink and was willing to be generous.

“Duzeon,” said four of the men as they saw Erianthee approaching. They respected her and broke off their conversation. Three other men had struck flint-and-steel to set their lanterns ablaze, and the first golden light cast long, quivering shadows across the grass.

“Ae-Perqueon, I would like a word with you,” said Erianthee, making a gesture of excuse to the other men.

He stepped aside, and nodded toward one of the feather-willows, his deeply seamed face revealing no emotion as he accompanied her to the shelter of the tree. “What am I to have the honor to – “

”Never mind all that,” said Erianthee, cutting him short.

He fell silent, watching her narrowly.

Erianthee could see his reluctance and prepared to get an answer from him. “Kloveon wants to pitch the silken tent and wait out a storm that Rakin Moricaz says is coming. Moricaz will shield us from the brunt of it, but he can’t turn it aside. Whether there is a storm or not, I think it would be foolish to wait here while it passes, since it would delay our meeting with Goriach Elet by at least a day. What does your talent tell you? Do we pitch the silken tent and stay, or the canvas one and depart at dawn?”

Ae-Perqueon gave a long, slow sigh as he mulled the possibilities. “I would recommend staying here tonight and tomorrow, Duzeon. The horses and mules could use a rest.”

“That was a wonderfully oblique response,” said Erianthee. “But if that is your recommendation, then it is what we should do.”

“Be sure to put a double-line on the animals tonight,” said ae-Perqueon. “They will be likely to fuss.”

“You expect some kind of trouble?” Erianthee asked, her voice sharpening.

He shrugged. “It is the first night of the full moon. Spells can be very strong at this time.”

This mention of the full moon took Erianthee by surprise. For a moment she thought of Ninianee and hoped that her sister had been able to manage her Change without difficulty or discovery. She felt a bit ashamed that she could not have lingered to assist her through it, but that would have been an insult to the Emperor and his Court, which Ninianee would not consider. With their father missing, Vildecaz stood in danger of losing it autonomy to the Porzalk Empire, with the excuse of providing protection, and she was worried that her absence would only increase the risk to her home – Erianthee could not forget that. She needed the good-will of the Emperor for the sake of her Duzky. Recalling herself to her immediate situation, she looked up toward the darkening sky. “Yes. The full moon has spells of its own beyond all others.”

“When Atakirath and Atazunah are one with Takzei, the Luminous Heavenly Twins, and the night is as powerful as the day,” said ae-Perqueon, making the ritual sign of reverence to the goddess of the waxing and the goddess of the waning moon, and then one to Takzei, the Luminous, who ruled the moon itself. “Three deities together have power that is very great.”

Erianthee copied his reverence and said, “Then for tonight and tomorrow night, we will remain here.” She was about to move away, but hesitated. “If your talent reveals something more, you will tell me, won’t you.”

“Certainly, Duzeon.” He respected her again.

“Thank you,” she said, and turned on her heel to make her way back to Kloveon.

“What have you decided?” he asked.

“We stay here, at least through tomorrow,” she said.

It was an effort, but Kloveon managed not to smirk.

* * *

Under a paling sky Ninianee tottered toward the edge of the copse, her satchel clasped to her chest while the fur faded from her arms and her hands returned. Thanks to Tsampaj it had been an uneventful night, with nothing more than an exchange of snarls with a redcoon. She huddled in a bush while she scrambled into her clothes, then slung the empty satchel over her shoulder and started back toward the outer wall of the Castle. Her walk was a bit unsteady at first as she restored her balance, but gradually she regained her stride. She was soon within sight of the keep, with its rounded roofs looking like a cluster of gigantic mushrooms; by the time she reached the stable-yard, she was almost whistling.

“Duzeon,” said Hoftstan Ruch, emerging from his family’s quarters in the outermost ring of the keep. He offered her a profound respect. “You must have gone out early.”

“Hoftstan,” she respected him. “Yes, so I did. I thought I might catch sight of the foxes that are new in the forest preserve.”

“And? What did you find?”

Ninianee shrugged. “I saw tracks but not the foxes.”

“Did you so?” He smiled. “Without a lantern?”

“The full moon was very bright,” she said, trying to sound at ease. “It wasn’t hard to see them.”

“No doubt,” said Hoftstan, giving nothing away by inflection or demeanor. “Now you’re back, Housekeeper-General Rocazin is looking for you.”

“Where is she?” Ninianee asked, wanting to return to her regular duties as Duzeon.

“In the muniment room, or she was when I saw her a short time ago.” He respected her and went toward the Guard House, turning and walking backward to add, “We have the visitor’s flag up that the Fahnine brought.”

“Very good,” said Ninianee, making for the side door into the Castle so that she could clothe herself more appropriately.

“And speaking of the Fahnine, Pareo wants to talk with you later this morning. I informed him that you would send him word what time suits your convenience.” He made an apologetic gesture. “For the sake of Zervethus Gaxamirin, I have done my best to accommodate the man as I would his master.”

“Fine,” said Nininaee in an undervoice; she found the secretary of the Imperial Scholar Zervethus Gaxamirin off-putting, but for the time being she had to deal with him in place of his employer, Hoftstan was right about that. She wondered what he wanted of her, but set those questions aside as she went into the muniment room. “General Rocazin?”

The General, a tall, middle-aged woman in a handsome gaunel of blue-grey drugh-ox wool over a guin of pale Korzareon-satin, put down the leather case she was holding open and respected Ninianee. “Duzeon. Thank you for coming to me so promptly.”

“General,” said Ninianee. “You wanted to see me?”

“I do.” She glanced toward the door, then went to close it. “It’s about Scholar Gaxamirin’s secretary,” she said softly.

“Is something the matter?” Ninianee could not stop the rush of alarm she felt; it served as a confirmation that her impression of Pareo was more than a personal aversion to the man.

“I don’t know. He has a smoothness that makes glimpsing the man himself almost impossible. It may be a spell, but I doubt it.” She was uncharacteristically hesitant as she continued. “He has asked to be allowed to inspect your father’s quarters, including his private library and his Casting Room.”

Ninianee considered this quietly. “I would prefer he not do that,” she said at last. “His master may, when and if he comes, but for now, those rooms should remain sealed with spells and locked with keys.” She was surprised to hear how adamant she sounded.

But General Rocazin was nodding agreement. “I shall inform him of your decision.”

“Thank you, General.” Ninianee watched General Rocazin thoughtfully, then said, “I know these are difficult times, and I am grateful to you for your steadiness and dependability during our present unsettled days. When my father returns, he will distinguish your service properly, but for now, be certain of my confidence and my gratitude. You have been a steady hand at the tiller in rough seas. I must tell you that I am eager to see our situation resolved, my father returned, and the Duzky secure once again.”

Although not readily given to smiling, General Rocazin made a valiant attempt at one. “Gracious as always, Duzeon. We are all making offerings to the gods for Duz Nimuar to come back to Vildecaz without delay. You and your sister have been most diligent in maintaining the Duzky in his absence, and we all honor you for it, but all this uncertainty is dangerous for Vildecaz.”

“I share your concern. I wish my father were safely home, too.” Ninianee glanced over her shoulder. “Is there anything more?”

“Not at present,” said General Rocazin, respecting Ninianee and stepping back. “I am to meet with Cook-Major Ver Mindicaz to arrange for reprovisioning the kitchen; we have run low on several foods. I will dispatch four assistants to attend the market in Valdihovee tomorrow.”

“Very good. I look forward to hearing the account of the market. And I don’t limit that to the prices being charged or the number of vendors participating.” She said this more because it was expected of her than because it was true: until the full moon was past, she needed to put her main concern in her own safety.

“There is still fruit and plants to be brought in from the fields and the orchard,” General Rocazin reminded Ninianee. “Shall I order the workers out? The lantern-fruit is ripe.”

“Then by all means, bring it in. And those plants that may be preserved should be brought in as well, and the pickling vats made ready.” Ninianee tugged on her satchel. “I should get into clean clothes.”

“Of course, Duzeon.” General Rocazin respected Ninianee a last time and stepped back from her. “I’ll see you again before our mid-day meal.”