"Had you lied, the result would have been rather more dramatic."
"And considerably messier," Seregil added with a relieved grin.
"Considerably," said Nysander. "And now, what have you to report, Seregil?"
Seregil settled his shoulders more comfortably against the pillows. "When I left Rhнminee at the end of Rhythm, I took ship to Nanta and spent two days listening around the docks. Rumor had it that there were an unusual number of ships being refitted Plenimaran ports, Karia in particular. This confirmed what we already heard from Korbin.
"Moving north, I poked around Boersby, learning that a delegation of Plenimaran merchants had stopped there a month to discuss overland trade routes. A contingent of fifty armed riders had continued inland in the direction of the Fishless Sea."
"To what end?" asked Nysander. "There is little in those barren hills but a few nomadic tribes."
Seregil shrugged. "There were all sorts of speculations. Apparently local men were hired on as guides and haven't been heard of since. If the mounted column did come south again, they came by a different route. Thinking they might have followed the Brilith River down toward the Woldesoke, I decided to check in with a friend at Ballton. There'd been no sightings in that area, but she said that similar parties had been seen to the east.
"The word is that the lords of the various mountain demesnes are being visited, but nobody's certain of their purpose. It boded ill for Plenimar to be so far north, so I decided to work my way along the mountains and see what these riders had been up to.
"If they went as far as Kerry, there wouldn't be much doubt that they were casting a greedy eye at the Gold Road again.
"I was right, but quickly learned that the Plenimarans had left their new friends with a healthy distrust of strangers. Even as a bard, I had one or two difficulties before Asengai finally caught me. Not everyone was taken in, though. Lord Warkill and his sons gave them the air. Lord Nostor seems to have been noncommittal. My old friend Geriss had just died, and his widow, a Mycenian by birth, would have nothing to do with the envoys."
"Lady Brytha? I knew her as a girl," remarked Nysander. "Her holding is very isolated, as I recall."
"It's a large one, though, and well populated. I spoke to her in private and warned her to be cautious. She has four sons, two of them grown, who seem reliable enough. If worse comes to worst, they'll be able to hold out or flee."
"Let us hope it does not come to that. I have had word already that some advances were made in Kerry, but that they were politely refused."
Seregil laughed darkly. "If by polite you mean no bloodshed. The miners have been content with their situation for hundreds of years and are a hard lot to move. Still, if the mountain lords can be swayed against them, Kerry could be lost."
"And who is leading these Plenimarans? What is their method?"
"Crafty, as usual. It seems that nobody spoke to the same emissary, which means there were either several groups going among the various holdings, or they switched off leaders each time. I have the names, but I doubt they'll amount to much. As for their method, it was the old wishing mirror game."
"The what?" Alec interjected, completely lost by now.
Seregil grinned. "You've never heard the story of the wishing mirror?" You look into it to see your heart's desire. The Plenimarans send a spy or two in advance to sound out the situation, then the grand commander rides in with a great show of soldiers and a saddlebag full of empty promises based on the reports of his spies. Formio, for instance, was informed that the Overlord of Plenimar wishes to arrange a marriage for some distant niece, while old Warkill, whose lands sit at the headwaters of the Silverwind, was promised aid to take the lands clear to the edge of the Woldesoice. Mind you, our friend Mardus is down in Wolde soon after, promising to defend the mayor from just such an incursion.
"I also had the good fortune to be captured by a gang of bandits east of Derila. Their leader happened to be fond of bards, so they decided to keep me on rather than slit my throat. They were a sloppy bunch and I managed to get away when I wanted to, but not before I learned that they'd been foolish enough to attack a party of Plenimarans only two weeks earlier. Instead of obliterating them, as the marines generally would if only for the practice, these blackguards enlisted the bandits to their cause, binding them with oaths, wine, and gold. They even went so far as to offer a bounty for any other freebooters they could bring in."
"What a pack of mongrels they are leashing together up there!" Nysander exclaimed, none too pleased.
"They will turn every little faction against its neighbor and let them cut each other to pieces."
"Then march in to sweep up the spoils," added Seregil. "After Alec and I got free of Asengai, we met with Erisa and Micum in Wolde. She'd been along the coast as far as Syour and her news was much the same, including the foray toward the Fishless Sea. She's equally mystified.
"According to her, Mardus stopped for a week at Sark Island on his way up the Osk to Blackwater Lake. I've never been there, but Micum says there's nothing but the ruins of an ancient trading colony. Hardly the thing to occupy someone like Mardus for a week."
"And Micum?"
"His news was the strangest of all. He'd been up around Ravensfell and reported a company of marines in full battle dress riding into the pass. Unless they're out to conquer whatever's left of the Hazadrielfaie, I can't imagine what they think they'll find except mountains and ice."
Seregil paused, but Nysander simply motioned for him to continue. "That brings us to the mayor's
banquet. Alec says he told you about our doings there, but there are a few details I'd better fill in."
"Pertaining to the maps, I assume," said Nysander.
"Yes. I found one in Mardus' campaign chest, quite ordinary, not hidden. Points on it had been marked at Wolde, Kerry, Sandir Point, Syour, and each of the mountain demesnes."
"Rather tidy, that," Nysander remarked.
"But even better, another map locked safely away in his dispatch box was marked with points at Sark Island, another somewhere north of Ravensfell, and one in the Blackwater Fens. The last one was circled. What do you make of that?"
"Most intriguing," Nysander mused, stroking his beard.
"Micum went back to the Fens after Boersby. He meant to head down here when he'd finished."
"How long ago did you last see him?"
"He left us at Boersby; let's see." Seregil thought for a moment, then shook his head impatiently. "Damn! I'm still muddled. Alec, how long has it been?"
Alec counted back. "Just over two weeks now."
"He should be with us soon, then," said Nysander, but something in his expression must have caught Seregil's eye.
"What is it, Nysander?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Is that all you have to report?"
"No. I believe those highwaymen who attacked us below Stock were Plenimaran agents. When we searched the bodies they just didn't have the right look to them. They had new weapons and clothing, all local, little money or possessions. It was as if they'd simply ridden into the Folcwine Forest and set up shop the day before. The whole situation didn't smell right."
"I have had occasion in the past to trust your intuition."
"There'd been a sudden rash of attacks on the caravans around Wolde just before the Plenimaran envoys showed up there," added Alec.
Seregil nodded wryly. "Taken with everything else, it seems rather too much of a coincidence that these cutthroats should appear out of nowhere just in time to be run off by the able marines."
"I see," mused Nysander. "Then you believe that Plenimar is providing a reason for the northern towns to seek an alliance?"