‘I like his definition of easy,’ Caalador murmured to Stragen.
Emban jotted another note on his inevitable list. Then he cleared his throat.
‘Must you, Emban?’ Bergsten sighed.
‘It helps me to think, Bergsten, and it makes sure that we haven’t left anything out. If it bores you so much, don’t listen.’
‘The man-things talk much when they decide how they will hunt, U-lat,’ Bhlokw complained.
‘It is the nature of the man-things to do this.’
‘It is because the hunts of the man-things are too much not-simple. It is my thought that their hunts are not-simple because they do not eat the ones they kill. They hunt and kill for reasons which I do not understand. It is my thought that this thing the man-things call “war” is a very great wickedness.’
‘It is not in our thought to cause anger to the priest of the Troll-Gods,’ Patriarch Bergsten said in flawless Trollish. ‘The thing which the man-things call war is like the thing which happens when two Troll-packs come to hunt on the same range.’
Bhlokw considered that. Then he grunted as comprehension came over his shaggy face. ‘Now it is clear to me,’ he said. ‘This thing the man-things call “war” is like the hunting of thought. That is why it is not-simple. But you still talk much.’ The Troll squinted at Emban. ‘That one is the worst,’ he added. ‘His mindbelly is as big as his belly-belly.’
‘What did he say?’ Emban asked curiously.
‘It wouldn’t translate very well, your Grace,’ Ulath replied blandly.
Patriarch Emban gave him a slightly suspicious look and then meticulously laid out their deployment once again, checking items off his list as he went. When he had finished, he looked around. ‘Can anybody think of anything else?’
‘Perhaps,’ Sephrenia said, frowning slightly. ‘Our enemies know that Berit’s not really Sparhawk, but they’re going to think that Sparhawk won’t have any choice but to follow along behind. It might help to confirm that belief. I think I know a way to duplicate the sound and sense of Bhelliom. If it works, our enemies will think that Sparhawk’s somewhere in the column of knights Vanion’s going to lead out into the desert. They’ll concentrate on us rather than looking for him.’
‘You’re putting yourself in danger, Sephrenia,’ Aphrael objected.
‘There’s nothing particularly new about that.’ Sephrenia smiled. ‘And when you consider what we’re trying to do, no place is really safe.’
‘Is that it, then?’ Engessa asked, standing up.
‘Probably, friend Engessa,’ Kring replied, ‘except for the hour or so we’ll all spend telling each other to be careful.’
Engessa squared his shoulders, turned and faced his Queen directly. ‘What are your orders, Betuana-Queen,’ he asked her with military formality.
She drew herself up with a regal stiffness. ‘It is our instruction that you return with us to Sama, Engessa-Atan. There you will resume command of our armies.’
‘It shall be as you say, Betuana-Queen.’
‘Directly upon our return, you will send runners to my husband, the king. Tell him that there is no longer a threat to Toea. The Shining Ones will deal with Scarpa.’
He nodded stiffly.
‘Further, tell him that I have need of his forces in Sama. That is where we will prepare for the main battle, and he should be there to take command.’ She paused. ‘This is not because we are dissatisfied with your leadership, Engessa-Atan, but he is the king. You have served well. The royal house of Atan is grateful.’
‘It is my duty, Betuana-Queen,’ he replied, clashing his fist against his breastplate in salute. ‘No gratitude is necessary.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Aphrael murmured.
‘What’s wrong?’ Sephrenia asked her.
‘Nothing.’
22
‘It was definitely Chacole and Torellia, Sarabian,’ Elysoun insisted several days later. ‘Chacole’s more or less running things. She’s er and shrewder. The strangers usually go directly to her. They talk privately for a while, and then she sends for Torellia. They weren’t really all that fond of each other before, but now theyve got their heads together all the time.’
‘Theyre probably getting orders from home,’ Sarabian mused. Jaluah of Cynesga is Chacole’s brother, and Torellia’s the daughter of King Rakya of Arjuna. Can you get any sense at all of what they might be up to?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s too early.”
‘Early?’
‘Women’s politics again. We’re more devious than men. Chacole will want everything in place before she starts to form alliances. She’s got Torellia under control, but she’s not ready to start trying to expand yet.’
‘You’rere sure that Torellia’s the subordinate one?’
She nodded. ‘Chacole’s servants are lording it over hers. That’s the first sign of dominance in the Women’s Palace. Ceirona’s servants are all insufferable because she’s the first wife and we’re all subordinate to her—except for Liatris, of course,’
Sarabian smiled. ‘No one in his right mind is ont to Liatris. Has she killed anybody lately?’
‘Not since she butchered Cieronna’s footman last year.’
‘There’s a thought. Should we bring Liatris into this?’
Elisoun shook her head. ‘Maybe later, but not at this stage. Atana Liatris is too direct. If I approached her with this, she’d simply kill Chacole and Torellia. Let’s wait until she approaches me before we involve Liatris.’
‘Are you sure Chacole will approach you?’
‘It’s almost certain. My servants have greater freedom of movement than hers—because of my social activities.’
‘That’s a delicate way to put it.’
‘You knew I was a Valesian when you married me, Sarabian, and you know about our customs. That’s why my servants have the run of the compound. It’s always been a tradition.’
He sighed. ‘How many are there currently, Elysoun?’
‘None, actually.’ She smiled at him. ‘You don’t really understand, do you, Sarabian? The biggest part of the fun of those little adventures has always been the intrigue, and I’m getting plenty of that playing politics.’
‘Aren’t you feeling a little—deprived?’
‘I can endure it,’ she shrugged, ‘and if I get desperate, I always have you to fall back on, don’t I?’ and she gave him an arch little smile.
‘Wal, sir, Master Valash,’ Caalador drawled, leaning back in his chair in the cluttered loft, ‘ol’ Vymer here, he done tole me that yet a’ willin’ t’ pay good money fer information, an’ he sorta figgered oz how y’ might want t’ hear ’bout the stuff I seen in southwest Atan fer yet very own self.’
‘You two have known each other for quite some time then?’ Valash asked.
‘Oh, gorsh yes, Master Valash. Me’n Vymer goes way back. We wuz all t’gether durin’ that fracas in Matherion—him an’ me an’ From an’ Reldin—along with a couple others—when the fellers from Interior come a-bustin’ in on us. They wuz hull bunches o’ excitement that night, let me tell yew. Anyway, ahem we shuck off the po-lice, we all split up an’ scattered t’ th’ winds. Tain’t a real good idee t’ stay all bunched up whin yet a-runnin’ from th’ law.’
Stragen sat back from the table out of the circle of light from the single candle, carefully watching Valash’s face. Caalador had just arrived to replace Sparhawk and Talen in the ongoing deception of Valash, and Stragen was once again impressed by how smooth his friend really was. Valash seemed lulled by the easy, folksy charm of Caalador’s dialect. Stragen despised the speech, but he was forced to admit its utility. It always seemed so innocently artless.
‘Anyway?’ Valash asked.
‘I tuk off ‘bout a week ago,’ Caalador shrugged. ‘ff in a tavern up in Delo whilst I wuz e, an’ they wuz a feller what had “police him who wuz describin’ ol’ From an’ the warts. Soon’s I got yore, I tole ‘em ’bout at it might just be time t’ move on. Anyas how yet innerested in whut’s a-goin’ I seen a few things after we all got run e’s a-thankin’ might be worth somethin.’