Valdemar 06 - [Exile 01] - Exile’s Honor (37 page)

Talamir decided not to disabuse her of that notion. He just caught Sendar's eye and nodded. Sendar grimaced.

“Well, I'll be doing the same tomorrow,” the King said, to Talamir's pleasure. “Though how I'm to squeeze more hours into the day, I do not know.”

“I've already told you, and done so repeatedly. By putting the Council meetings and any other business that is not directly concerned with the war into the hands of your Seneschal,” Talamir told him, with a little heat, because he had been advising this very move for months now. “That is what he is there for. You can't be two places at once, and if we don't win this thing, there won't
be
a Valdemar for you to reign over! Your Seneschal is competent, unflappable, and far better at obfuscation than you are. If it's something he
can't
do, he is supremely good at stalling things until you have the leisure to deal with it, and what is more, he knows to a nicety what he can and cannot do. Delegate, Sendar! How many times do I have to repeat that?”

Sendar shook his head. “I don't—” he began, then shrugged. “I will. But—”

“And don't tell me that you don't like it,” Talamir snapped, deciding to show his King and friend the edge of his anger. After all, Sendar wasn't the only person in the Kingdom who was doing things he didn't “like.”

“I won't,” Sendar replied, in a way that told Talamir that this was exactly what he
had
been going to say. “What else do you want me to put on my plate?”

“A speech. You're going to have to tell the people—of Haven, at least—what's coming. And I've never been the speechmaker that you are.” That was
certainly
something that needed doing that only Sendar could handle. “I can't write it, and I certainly can't deliver it.”

“A speech.” Sendar sighed. “Yes, that will have to be me. Selenay, I advise you that when you take the throne, find someone else to write the speeches for you.”

“I think not,” she replied, so somberly that both Talamir and her father shot a look at her. “Speeches aren't just something that we deliver, as if we were mere actors. They have to come from our hearts, father, and there has to be truth in them. If they don't resonate from inside us, and they don't have truth behind them, how can we ever expect people to believe in us and what we say?”

They both focused on her at once. It wasn't so much with astonishment as—unanticipated pleasure. She sounded like an adult. She
was
an adult. And she sounded like someone who had learned all the right lessons from her father.

She returned their looks gravely. “Platitudes might satisfy for a short time, father—but soon or late, the people will realize they are being fed form without substance. What I tell them must be the truth, and I must believe it, and I must hold to it. That is what you have taught me. I have learned far more from you than that, but that is one of the important things you have taught me by your example.”

He nodded, and so did Talamir.
:She knows. We've done our job, haven't we?:
he asked Taver.

Now—if they could just be certain of
having
the time. . . .

A
LBERICH stood behind Selenay's chair in an attitude that was a hair less than rigid attention. That slight degree of relaxation, he had noticed, tended to make peoples' eyes slide right over him. He had taught Selenay's Six (as they were calling themselves) that same trick; it was very useful to be ignored, especially for a bodyguard. The fact that he was in Whites rather than his own distinctive gray leathers was helpful there; people didn't
notice
that it was the infamous Alberich there because they didn't expect to see
him
in Whites.

Talamir
would
have been standing the same guard behind Sendar's seat, except that he had his own seat on the Council; in this case, his place had been taken by Herald Jadus. Jadus managed to look as if he was no more than an interested bystander, and his guileless expression reinforced that impression. If one didn't know better—and only a few people
did
—one might well assume that was the case.

Jadus was something of a surprise to Alberich. He would have expected the Bard-turned-Herald to be one of the lot remaining behind at the Collegium, not skilled enough in warfare to be of any use in the coming fight. He would never have guessed that Jadus was as grimly determined to strike his own blow against the enemies of Valdemar as any Guardsman, nor suspected that Jadus was a deadly swords-man. His skill with a blade was not something that had come to light until recently, as he had been out on circuit all this time. Dethor had remembered it since he had trained Jadus himself; he was the one who had recommended Jadus as one of Sendar's bodyguards.

There was an interesting twist to his talent with a blade; Jadus fought with a light rapier rather than the commoner broadsword, but such a weapon was much more useful in a situation of close combat. Useful, too, within four walls, or any other crowded situation. Dethor had called Jadus in to work with Alberich, and both of them had immediately suggested that Talamir assign Jadus as one of the King's six personal guards. The more Heralds they had in
those
positions, the better. Sendar was more likely to listen to a Herald than a Guardsman. Not that the King was “likely” to listen to anyone if their advice went against something he felt strongly about, but a Herald was more likely than anyone else to get him to stop and think before he acted.

But Jadus was not the only surprise; another of Sendar's bodyguards was a Healer. In fact, it was the same MindHealer, Crathach, who had mediated the transfer of all of those memories from Alberich to the four spies.

Crathach was also a wicked bladesman, although he favored a two-handed style with knives instead of longer weapons, and his skill was such that he had been able to teach Alberich a trick or two.
He
came to Alberich himself to demonstrate his skills, and volunteer his services at something besides Healing. “You don't want a Healer angry at you,” he'd said, when Alberich questioned him on whether he could bring himself to kill with those knives. “A Healer knows how you're put together, and what will hurt the most. I've been working with the severely wounded ever since all this started—” his eyes had glinted, “—and this Healer is very, very angry at the Tedrels.”

Alberich often wondered just what had made Crathach, a Healer, into someone who could say that and look Alberich straight in the eyes while doing so. But he of all people understood a wish to keep one's past private, and unless Crathach volunteered the information,
he
was not going to ask. He probably hadn't expected to be made one of the King's personal bodyguards, but he adapted immediately. And Alberich was not at all unhappy about having someone who was
also
a Healer serving as a bodyguard. Especially a MindHealer, who had ways of dealing with a King who was reluctant to rest when he needed to.

It was a convenient assignment, to have the Healer taking the latest of the two night watches, along with one of Sendar's former squires, knighted just after Alberich had come to the Collegium. The lad had then been sent by his father on some mission or other, and hadn't come back to Haven until a few moons ago. Alberich had anticipated a certain amount of trouble from that one, but all he'd gotten was respect. Evidently the young buck had gotten some of the arrogance knocked out of him. . . .

Just as well; any arrogance the young bucks of Valdemar still had was about to get knocked out of all of them, and for some of them, the experience would be fatal. The less arrogance, the better the chance at surviving until all this was over.

What Sendar and Talamir and the Lord Marshal were doing at this meeting was to give the rest of the Council a thorough briefing on absolutely everything that they had all learned—from spies, FarSeers, ForeSeers, and anyone else whose word they thought was trustworthy.

The Tedrels were in the process of establishing their final base for attack just across the Border in Karse, and the size of it made Alberich grow cold all over. So far they had done nothing
but
prepare; it was not yet a campaign, much less a war, and that did not bode well either. This was to be an invasion, and as such, the preparations were being taken with all of the care that decades of detailed planning could insure.

They had been working toward this moment for—well, years, decades, at least. Alberich had known better than to hope that their focus had diminished over the years. Their shock troops might be a combination of the dregs of the mercenary trade, criminals who sought sanctuary in their ranks, and whatever young men they could recruit with promises of adventure, excitement, and easy money, but the core was the Tedrel nation, whose longing for a new homeland had only strengthened, the longer that they went without a home.

If anything, the increase had been exponential with the land of Valdemar in their sight. The bitterness of those thrown out of their homeland by their enemies had been distilled by the years. Now it was as much of a weapon as the swords, spears, and arrows in the hands of the army.

And they had done something very clever this final season; Karse was used to their strategy of making a base from which they could strike into Valdemar, and didn't think twice about it when, once again, the Tedrel commanders had set about establishing yet another. But this time, with the Karsites lulled into complacency, they had built up their own troops and established a base that could be used equally well to strike at Valdemar
or
Karse, then made it clear to their erstwhile allies that they did not particularly care if further aid was delivered voluntarily or wrested from the Sunpriests by force. The Sunpriests must have been shocked to discover the monster they themselves had created, sitting on their doorstep, not to be budged, reasoned with, or countered, demanding that it be fed, and fed royally.

That much, Alberich and the others knew from the spies. And although he could not know this for certain, he was fairly sure that the Karsite treasury had been emptied, literally and completely, into the Tedrel coffers until even the rapacious maw of their army was sated. Shocked and dismayed, utterly undone and perhaps in a panic when they realized the position they had put themselves in, their first thought would be of self-defense. The coffers could be refilled, but if the Tedrels came in force to take what they wanted, they probably wouldn't stop with taking the gold and silver in the treasury—they would go on to help themselves to the personal treasures of the high-ranking priests . . . at the very least.

Supplies, the lifeblood of an army, were pouring in. And the means to transport those supplies, just as important, were not lacking either. If there was a cart or a beast in all of Karse that was not in the hands of the Tedrels, it was not for lack of money or effort. Trade had slowed to a crawl as carters, draymen, and teamsters flocked to make a small army of their own in the ranks of the Tedrels. Merchants couldn't find anyone to carry their goods; farmers were having to transport their own foodstuffs to market. The silver lure held out to recruit these notoriously independent souls was augmented by the guarantee that they would be sacrosanct, that no one could or would force them into the ranks of the soldiery.
They
would not fight;
they
would be guarded by fighters. The supply lines would roll, fat and heavy with everything the Tedrels needed.
This
time they would not plunder the countryside because they had to; they would not need to worry about living off the land.

Although Sunsguard soldiers did
not
go into the ranks of the Tedrel forces, there had been movement toward the Border, and now they had formed a line of defense on either side of the Tedrel base, ensuring that the Tedrels could not be flanked, at least on the Karsite side of the Border.

Brilliant. It was all brilliant. He couldn't fault their strategy.

Or their patience. They had waited all this time for their golden opportunity, and they were clearly not going to ruin that opportunity by forgetting that patience now. The Tedrels would move when the Tedrels were ready; not before, and not a candlemark later.

Talamir and the Lord Marshal were revealing all of this to the Council now. It was new to most of them, but only because they hadn't been paying attention. It wasn't as if they hadn't been
warned,
over and over again, that the Tedrels were going to keep coming at Valdemar until it fell, or they were destroyed and dispersed.

Alberich couldn't fathom it. It was as if the moment that the Tedrels retreated in the fall, the members of the Council forgot they existed and would be back in the spring. True, there were plenty of pressing concerns, but none, to his way of thinking, as the inevitability of the Tedrels making that final push. Perhaps, in the back of their minds, they hoped that eventually the Tedrels would give up and go away. After all, they had never yet won so much as a thumbnail's worth of Valdemaran land. But if that were so, then all of the things that all of the spies and ForeSeeing Heralds and historians had been telling them had just gone right past them without being believed.

If they'd been paying as much attention as they should have been to all of the reports that Talamir had given them over the last few moons, they would know most of this. On the other hand, the fact that it was all coming as a horrible surprise was going to work in Sendar's favor. The Council could—and would, as Talamir and Sendar worked together like a pair of clever shepherd dogs—be stampeded into granting Sendar whatever he wanted.

One of those things was Alberich—no longer kept back in the shadows, ostensibly no more than a closely watched underling. Sendar wanted Alberich in the thick of things, at his or Selenay's side, seeing and hearing everything that was most important, most secret. This greater danger would make the members of the Council forget where Alberich came from and remember only the uniform, the quiet work on the seamy underside of Haven, the invaluable help in placing agents in Karse. And presumably, there would be no further objection to Alberich's presence wherever Sendar wanted him.