"Frankly, I am not entirely convinced that this earth-sense you told me about really exists," he said after a moment. "'And I honestly do not think, if it exists, that I happen to have it. It just seems all too very pat and too coincidental that out of all the people who might have been sent here, I would happen to have this sense which is needed at this particular time." He frowned a little. "It's rather too much like something a tale-seller might make up."
"Possibly," Darkwind replied. "But you might consider it before you dismiss this proposition out-of-hand. If you take as your premise that earth-sense does exist, and that the extreme form of it could only be... induced, let us say... by this ritual, then the lesser, or latent forms would be very useful to anyone who was in a position to rule even a small area. Having such a thing could explain why some landowners are more successful at managing their property than others—why some landowners have an uncanny ability to gauge what is going on with their property and people, and why some have remarkable hunches that always prove correct."
"I can see that," Tremane acknowledged.
"So, given that, it is logical to assume that those landowners whose lines were so Gifted would be more prosperous than others. would accumulate more property, and would eventually rise to higher and higher positions of power over the many generations," Darkwind persisted. "And in short, it would actually be logical to assume that a man who had been a ruler of property or even a King would be so Gifted, because his predecessors could not have prospered so well without it."
Tremane laughed out loud; it was the first time that Darkwind had ever heard him laugh, and he liked the sound of it. He often judged aspects of peoples' character by their laughter; Tremane's laugh was open, generous, and not at all self-conscious.
"I think that if you had not been born among the Hawkbrothers, you would have become a diplomat, a courtier, or a priest, Master Darkwind," he said finally. "You certainly can turn a fine argument. Now, hear me out, if you please."
Darkwind and Elspeth both nodded, and Tremane set forth his own reasoning.
"You must know, and they must know, that with or without this earth-sense, if my men and I can recreate order here—as we already have done, you might note—people will come to my banner without the title attached to it. That is the great secret of Imperial success. We wait until a land is disorganized and demoralized, and then we move in, offering peace, order, and prosperity. Usually people welcome us. Then, when they see the high level that Imperial prosperity represents, word spreads, and the lands we move on generally are half-conquered before the Army itself ever reaches them."
"That makes rather too much sense," Elspeth put in dryly.
He nodded his acknowledgment and continued, tapping his index finger on the table to emphasize each point. "You must make it very clear to these people that no matter what happens, I intend to go on holding this particular piece of Hardorn from now on, for myself, my men, and those Hardornens who have accepted my rule and my order without any of this earth-binding business."
"I think they are already well aware of that, Tremane," she answered just as frankly. "But I will make sure that arrangement is openly acknowledged on both sides. To be honest with you, there is no way that you can be dislodged with the few resources these Hardornen loyalists have at their command. That would take an army. The only armies large enough are those commanded by the Allies, and we are here representing the Allies in a gesture of peace and goodwill, so I don't think you need concern yourself about losing your hold on this place."
"Good. just so that we're all clear on that." He toyed with a corner of a piece of paper for a moment. "I can't say that I really care for the idea of subjecting myself to this ritual. It all sounds terribly primitive, somehow. But perhaps even if I don't believe I have this so-called earth-sense, the priest will be convinced that I do, and will let me go through with this ritual even if it is meaningless. Frankly, if that happens, it would be the easiest and quickest way to get all of Hardorn under my wing, and it would be done with absolutely no bloodshed." He smiled; an oddly shy smile, and Darkwind had the feeling that it was a rare smile, as if Tremane had even less to smile about than to laugh about. "How could I possibly turn away that kind of opportunity?"
"In your position, I certainly would not," Darkwind told him. "Well, is that the whole of your message?"
Tremane nodded. "And if you'll excuse me, I have matters regarding my men to see to. My aide can escort you back to your quarters, and if there is anywhere in the city you need to go, he can give you the proper directions."
:That won't be necessary,: Gwena said.
"Thank you," Darkwind replied, without giving any indication that he would take Tremane up on his offer.
Once again, after a polite exchange of bows, they departed for their own quarters. Elspeth had a thoughtful look on her face, but waited until they were alone again before saying anything.
She stood with her back to the cast-iron-and-brick stove holding the mage-fire, warming herself at it. A real fire also burned on the hearth, and between the two, their rooms were as comfortable as any in Valdemar. But the hallways of this fortified manor were still cold, despite the addition of such stoves, and they both tended to get chilled going from their quarters to Tremane's.
There was no doubt that this was one of the worst winters that Hardorn had ever experienced, even without the effect of the magestorms. The main difference in the weather now that the mage-storms had abated, according to their aide, was that now there were only snowstorms, not killing blizzards, every two weeks or so. With the incredible blanket of snow covering the ground, the sun couldn't even begin to melt it before another layer fell.
The modified Heralds' Whites that the hertasi had designed for her seemed particularly well-suited to the icy landscape outside. He wondered what the Imperial soldiers thought when they saw her; did they believe that her costume was meant to reflect the season, as Tayledras scout gear did?
"You know," Elspeth said finally, in Tayledras. "This situation has some interesting parallels in the history of Valdemar—the Founding, specifically."
"Oh?" Darkwind joined her, hands outstretched to the warm stove, wishing that there was something like a Hawkbrother hot spring or soaking pool about. It never seemed possible to be entirely warm except in bed. He responded in the same language. "I wasn't aware of that."
"'Well, Valdemar was fleeing the Empire rather than serving it when he and his followers trekked out in this direction, but when he got to the point where Haven is now and started building, he actually built beside an existing village," Elspeth replied, turning to face the stove and rubbing her hands together. "The locals there were not entirely thrilled with having a foreign power moving in, although they never actually opposed him. But once they saw the advantages of coming under his protection—and the way in which his own followers were treated—they began to act the way the Hardornens are with Tremane. And eventually, of course, they insisted that he call himself a King." She chuckled. "That was really rather funny; it seemed that every little petty ruler for leagues in every direction was calling himself a 'King,' and his own people were embarrassed to be led by a mere Baron. They had a crown made up, called in a priest to concoct a ceremony, and had him crowned before he had a chance to object. I gather that he was rather startled by it all."