The web of wizardry (12 page)

"Be still, cousin, or you will have far more justice than you would like." When he had first seen Malol, Danaer had thought the partician had a rather gentle manner and a face most unstem. Now his fair complexion had whitened and his fists were clenched. This cultured nobleman was also a soldier, and he had learned that his troops had been senselessly slain by his relative's stupidity.

Diilbok leaped to his feet. Danaer, though loathing the man, reacted to rank and started to rise. Branra jerked his hand, ordering him to remain seated. "The King will hear of this!" Diilbok wailed, like a pampered child.

"Sit down." Malol's voice was as soft as a fire-snake's, but it cut through Diilbok's pettish temper. "May I remind you that Tobentis is in Kirvii and we are in Siank. Do not think to use our uncle's authority here, on me. Accidents may happen to those who do not understand the country they travel."

Diilbok peered at him owlishly. Then his manner changed. He did not appear a foolish drunk, but a sly schemer who had changed his tactics. "I . . . I do

see. My rude behavior shames me, cousin. Yet these charges—"

"We will consider the rest of them, once you take your chair." When Diilbok, with ill grace, had done so, Malol said, "Now, Troop Leader, on this matter of the identity of the rioters—can you explain yourself?"

"I did come forward, my lord, to say that the men were not Destre-Y. But it was not because they were known to me."

Malol rested his chin on the heel of his hand, meeting Danaer's gaze levelly. "What then, soldier?"

His manner was encouraging, but Danaer replied, "Of that I may not speak. Royal Commander. It . . . it is a rule of ... of my goddess. But there is this— and Captain Yistar will confirm it—that a true Destre would never plead for his life in battle, as these dogs did."

"He is right," Yistar put in.

"So the plains bandits feel no pain?" Diilbok sneered.

"They feel pain," the red-haired officer retorted hotly. "But they are proud, and they will never beg for mercy or cry out."

"Is there more evidence. Troop Leader?" Nurdanth asked. He had said very little so far in the inquiry. Now he pressed Danaer. "Will you tell more of what you know?"

Caught on the lance point of his goddess, Danaer heaved a sigh and shook his head. Nurdanth laced his slender fingers together. "You called challenge?" Danaer gaped at him, and the General went on. "And they gave you no proper response? Then indeed they were not true Destre-Y. I am not sworn to your goddess, soldier. I worship Peluva, not Argan. Therefore, will it cost your honor if / am the one who tells of the Azsed challenge?"

Nonplused, Danaer said, "I ... I think not, my lord. I have never heard the priests deal with this. Such a thing has not been known."

The General smiled, speaking with quiet pride. "I beUeve I may clarify the problem. Gentlemen, at-

tend me. Quite beyond the Destre dialect we all have acquaintance with, there is a secret reUgious language among the plains people. The Destre are taught the ritual when they are but children. They are forever bound to conceal it from outsiders. Challenge may be called to one of the faithful, and that one must answer in the true tongue of Argan. It is proof of Azsed, and information most jealously guarded, is it not, Troop Leader?"

"So I thought, until this moment, my lord." Yistar pursed his lips, then said, "I had heard tales of such, but I assumed it was another myth spread about the Destre-Y—with no basis."

"You are too famous a foe. Captain Yistar. Most of all, they would hide their secrets from you, and from such as Lieutenant Branraediir. I have made a lifelong study of the customs of Destre-Y—not as a soldier, but for my own knowledge and curiosity. Once I was a hidden observer when two Destre warriors fought to the death. It was then I learned of the challenge, and later I gathered scraps to tell me of its secret and holy nature. And," Nurdanth's tone grew guarded when he concluded, "I have other methods." Danaer remembered the sorkra. Truly, the General had sources, closed to men who did not treat with the wizards, things most people would avoid. It was not evil, but it was a trick of spying that served him admirably.

Malol and Nurdanth put their heads together, whispering. Yistar leaned back, his burly arms crossed. Prince Diilbok twisted about on his chair, trying to overhear what his royal cousin and the General were saying. Branra showed no interest, waiting patiently. At last Nurdanth said, "We judge this matter closed. If challenge was given and not answered, then Troop Leader Danaer was correct in his accusations. The rioters were not Destre-Y. He committed no treachery, but a profound service in reporting this to his Captain."

"I protest." That, of course, was Diilbok. "We do not know the whole of it."

"Perhaps we do not," Malol said ominously.

"I ... I meant that the Destre-Y are not to be trusted— any of them. Perhaps the rioters were of a different clan than the Troop Leader's own, and knew some alien tongue. Perhaps ..."

Malol te Eldri regarded his kinsman with wonderment. "The matter is closed, cousin," he said. "Have done with it."

To Danaer's amazement, Diilbok took a wheedling note. "It is only that I am concerned for your welfare, Malol. Here, so far from the palace, we are prey for the devil worshippers. And now you plan to deal with them personally. It may well be that those such as Nurdanth and Yistar here have grown careless from too long association with the Destre. They do not see the dangers we do."

"Your advice is taken under consideration, cousin, and we thank you for your loving anxiety on our behalf. Nevertheless, we will stand by this decision. The inquiry is at an end."

Diilbok opened his mouth, thought better of what he had been about to say, and gritted his teeth in frustration. Then he rose and bowed to Malol and the General, seeking permission to withdraw. As he hurried from the room, a nod from Malol te Eldri sent Branra in Diilbok's wake, though following at a discreet distance.

Nurdanth indicated Danaer's helmet and weapons. "You are to take up your rank. We have no time to waste on these events just past. Come with us."

Mystified, Danaer obeyed, traiUng the three oflScers as they went out into the corridor. He sheathed his sword and put knives back in proper places and his sling into his beh. Nurdanth led the way. He stopped briefly at the kitchens, pointing to the cook's table. Danaer gratefully scooped up a handful of gram cakes left from the officers' meal, far better fare than the gruel he got in barracks. He wolfed down the cakes, Destre fashion, as the four continued to the end of a rocky corridor and out into the night.

They had exited at General Nurdanth's private stables. Malol te Eldri sent away grooms and orderUes,

then took a lantern from a peg and held it high. Light fell across a row of blanket-draped bodies.

"Who are they?" the Royal Commander asked.

Danaer pulled away one of the blankets. In the warmth of spring damp, the corpse had already begun to stink. Danaer had smelled the Uke before, and heeded it little, examining the body. The face told him nothing, and the clothes were ordinary Destre shirt and breeches and vest, undistinguished by markings. Then Danaer grasped the man's left hand, turning the eiphren he wore. "This, my lord ..."

"Let me see," Nurdanth said. Danaer took off the ring and fhe officers crowded about him. The scout turned the stone to catch the lantern's pale light.

"What is it?" Malol shifted from foot to foot in his impatience.

Nurdanth snorted, taking the ring from Danaer. "Observe the cut of the gem. All Destre-Y eiphrens are triangular or circular in shape. This is square. It was never blessed by Azsed priest, you can be certain. Most likely it was purchased at some market in The Interior."

'Where m The Interior? And they did not get those clothes in the mountains."

''Some of them wore true eiphrens, my lord," Danaer volunteered. "I killed such a one. Perhaps they had more clothes to steal than rings they could find."

"Are there any other clues to their origins?"

"Where are the roans they were riding, my lord?"

"This way." Nurdanth led them to nearby stalls. Danaer looked over the sleepy-eyed horses, running hands along hides and hooves, seeking a tribe brand. Discouraged to find none, he was about to confess failure, then noticed the discarded saddles stacked to one side. Yistar knelt beside him as they picked over motge leather, fur, and cloth. Both men tugged at the saddle's undersurface and the fabric gave, revealing a striped inner lining they read instantly. Nurdanth, too, recognized the pattern, and in one voice they exclaimed, "Rierdon-ne!"

"But how is this?" Danaer murmured, dusting his

hands. "Rierdon-ne is the tribe of Jatri, and he is kin to Gordt te Raa. He would never sell Destre gear to those lit disguised as rioters ..."

"There are other ways than purchase," Yistar said.

Danaer winced. "Theft from Destre-Y! It would have cost much blood, for these were not easily come by."

"Blood, and money." Malol held the eiphren ring close to the lantern. "And it may be there was also evil sorcery. There are those in The Interior who would go to any length to prevent an alliance with the Destre-Y."

"From The Interior? But surely they knew the need for this alliance?" Nurdanth was distraught that any could deny it. "How can anyone imagine the army alone could hold back these Markuand, now that they have overrun Clarique's islands?"

"Their hatred is all-consuming, my friend. Some work for greed or power. And some because they fear any union with the Destre-Y far more than they dread the invader." Malol put the false ring in his tunic and said, "It has been done. Now we know how far they will go to stop us. Troop Leader ..."

"My Lord Commander?"

"These are your people, the Destre-Y, and your sacred language. I want you to act as liaison when I ride to meet with Gordt te Raa and his council of tribal chieftains. He said it would take him a seven-day to gather them, and the time will soon be upon us. I want you with me." Danaer nodded obediently, and the Royal Commander went on. "I must speak no ill at this council, nor do anything to offend them. You are to warn me if I say anything to prejudice myself with the devil worshippers. Always speak freely. It is my order."

"Then ..."

"Yes?"

Danaer took a deep breath. "As a beginning, my lord, never call them 'devil worshippers.' At least not where they might overhear you."

Malol laughed. "Very good! Exactly the sort of advice I must have. Now, I must select the others who

will accompany me. Yourself, General Nurdanth . . . what of Lieutenant Branraediir?" Danaer's hesitancy was obvious, and Malol said again, "Speak freely and honestly."

"I have much cause to respect the Lieutenant, and I owe him thanks for his fair treatment of me this day. But it is not wise that he meet with Gordt te Raa, not yet. His reputation runs ahead of him. Royal Commander. Even I had some trouble in seeing the man behind the bloody name. It was my people he killed in his famous campaigns in the Tradyan prairies."

"Then we shall save his introduction to the Destre-Y leader, for a while." Malol considered a substitute and put forward the former commandant of Nyald fort.

"No." Yistar was startled to be rejected by Danaer, but the scout explained, "The Destre call him Straedanfi—Long-Fang. And like Lieutanant Branraediir, he is respected and hated. It is too soon for the Destre to embrace old enemies. And Captain Yistar was the renowned victor in the Kakyein Wars. They know him too well."

Malol sighed at having another choice turned away. He thought several minutes, then said, "Of course—a sorkra. What does Sovereign Gordt te Raa think of the sorkra?"

"All the Destre revere wizards, and fear them mightily. They dread calling any magic down upon themselves."

"This time the wizards will be their allies, not enemies," Malol promised.

"But Wizard Ulodovol is . . ." Nurdanth said, then let his voice trail off. He sighed and added, "His age is an mfirmity. If we would let be his contacts with his wizard Web at this critical time in far Clarique, he cannot be distracted."

"Plague!" The Royal Commander was much disappointed. "Truly, we dare not tax his feeble body. Well, then, we shall have to employ his apprentice."

"I am sure the lady Lira Nalu would be most agreeable," Nurdanth said. "It might be an even more useful choice. Many women rank high among the

Destre-Y. Lira Nalu's presence in your entourage should make a good impression. A woman sorkra. They will not have met her like before."

"Then the list is complete. Tomorrow we set forward our preparations for the council. There is much left to do." Malol blew out the lantern and hung it on its peg, a tacit adjournment of the inquiry and the investigation of the rioters' identities.

Danaer's head was spinning. Lira Nalu—riding with him and the Royal Commander and General Nurdanth! Two lords of The Interior, a Destre turned soldier, and a big-eyed Sarli woman who knew the frightening secrets of wizardry.

You will sit at the feet of the mighty ...

Osyta's prophecies of Andaru rang in his memory. He would indeed sit with the mighty, Destre and lit gathered in council—a reunion that had not taken place since the peoples of Ryerdon had divided themselves during their terrible journey across the Vrastre.

Had he wanted Lira Nalu to sing his name in memory when it seemed possible he would not survive his errand to the Zsed? Now the minstrels might sing all their names, and taletellers would chant this council's gathering to children yet unborn, to generations of Krantin—where Andaru might at last become real.

VII

Vrentru

"Here is the escort!"

The lookouts and sentinels had their instructions. Arrows stayed in quivers and no one rushed to bar the gate. Bitter at the turnabout in all the way of things, the soldiers watched as eight well-armed Destre-Y rode into the fort. Gordyan led them, and Danaer went to meet him.

"It is the Destre soldier," Gordyan said cheerfully to his warriors. "And where are these lit lords of yours?"

"They will be ready soon. Why have you come so early? We were informed the council would not begin till the sun reaches center-stand."