"And," Liiset broke in, "our Guard units are dispersed. We have a platoon at every embassy in the Rude Lands, the Marches, and the ylvin empires. And a squad or more at each Outland craftworks, where there's not an embassy at hand."
Embassies even in the empires! Macurdy was impressed. Probably, he thought, Cyncaidh had had a hand in that.
"That comes to nearly two cohorts," Liiset went on. "But only three companies are kept at the Cloister, not nearly enough to discourage a takeover by Idri.
"It's doubtful that Idri can go far with her ambitions, which I'm sure include conquests. But what she can do is create a shambles among the kingdoms and destroy the Sisterhood."
Macurdy nodded. Perhaps self-destruction was the destiny of the Sisterhood, but it would be a tragedy to see peace destroyed in the Rude Lands.
The Sisterhood, Liiset continued, had changed in other respects as well. Sarkia had married Sisters to every royal house in the Rude Lands-to the king or crown prince or both-with the single exception of Kormehr. Two had even married into royal families in the Marches. Those Sisters bore their children to foreign kings, children raised and trained at home. Thus the loyalty of the Outland queens to the Sisterhood was diluted.
The Sisters serving in Outland embassies and craftworks also came to look at the world and the Sisterhood with different eyes and minds than those remaining in the Cloister. To reduce this, for years Sarkia had rotated staff members every year or two. Only the ambassadors themselves had longer tenures. But she'd decided the returnees corrupted those who'd never been away, so now she mostly left them in place. She called them home mainly for breeding, and while in the Cloister, they lived apart.
"We've become a Sisterhood divided," Liiset finished. "There is now an Outland Sisterhood, and a larger Cloister Sisterhood. The latter tending to resent the former, but somewhat contaminated by them."
She gestured. "Omara is an exception. That Sarkia trusts her absolutely, I do not doubt. And despite Omara's role in keeping her alive, she sends her out for three or four weeks at a time, to investigate or handle Outland situations. Of the Outland queens, I seem to be the most trusted. Ironically enough, this is probably because Idri and I get along."
Liiset paused thoughtfully. "But of us all, Varia is Sarkia's favorite."
She caught Macurdy's surprise. "Decline has changed Sarkia greatly," she said, "in almost every respect. She has had to make many adjustments, and has made them well. When you knew her, she was strong willed and highly intelligent. But impulsive, sometimes destructively so, and slow to admit mistakes, even to herself. In decline she has grown honest with herself, and added wisdom to her virtues.
"Her great regret is having driven Varia into exile. She admires her above any of us. Varia the runaway, Varia the defiant. She truly grieves losing her. She has told me so, and her aura supports her words.
"As for Idri-" Liiset paused again. "Idri she neither admires nor trusts. She does, however, love her, and feels guilt for Idri's failures.
"Idri, on the other hand, hates Sarkia. Hates her, and in her way loves her, I think. And despairs of ever pleasing her. Emotionally they're thoroughly entangled." Liiset shook her head. "Don't ask me to explain it.
"But there is nothing ambivalent about her hatred of Varia. As girls, Idri and Varia were favorites of Sarkia. They'd vied for an executive apprenticeship in the dynast's office. Varia's virtues were talent, intelligence, and judgement. And good intentions. Idri's were energy and decisiveness. And ambition. Thus Sarkia chose Varia, and Idri never forgave either of them. Then, after a year in the apprenticeship-a successful year by all reports-Varia was sent to Farside to marry your uncle. Why her, I don't know. Bloodline perhaps."
She turned to Omara. "Do you have anything to add? About any of it?"
"Perhaps after further thought," Omara said, "but not now."
Throughout Liiset's exposition, Wollerda had said nothing. Now he spoke. "Then maybe it's time to end this conversation. We can take it up again in the morning. Our guests have had a long day; I suspect they'd like to rest. And Vulkan's supper has been delayed too long."
Vulkan voiced neither agreement nor disagreement, but Macurdy said that he'd already had more than enough to think about.
Earlier, Wollerda had sent a page with a royal order to have a sheep taken to a drill ground for Vulkan. Now Macurdy went with the giant boar, guided by a palace guardsman. They waited while Vulkan ate, not a pretty demolition. Then the boar was shown to a shed newly bedded with fresh clover hay, while a stableboy, looking ill, cleaned up the dinner mess.
Macurdy asked Vulkan if he'd prefer to be let out of the palace for the night. Vulkan said the shed would be fine. ‹I can wander widely enough in the spirit,› he added.
Macurdy wondered what that would be like.
After supper, Macurdy was invited to bathe with Wollerda and Liiset. The drill was a little different than it had been years before. Perhaps, Macurdy thought, because he hadn't bathed for several days, and then only briefly, in a river. Or maybe his bloodstream still held vestiges of the wild leeks of Miskmehr. At any rate, after being shown to his room, and offloading his personal gear there, he was taken to a small room off the royal bath, where there was a wash bench with basins, buckets of hot water, and a bowl of soap. There he and Wollerda soaped up and rinsed off.
Then they went into the bath together. It had the same large round tub he remembered, sunk half into the floor. Liiset already sat up to her shoulders in steaming water. Macurdy pulled his glance away. Not that he could see all that much, and what he saw was distorted by the water. But he knew what she looked like-incredibly lovely-because she was one of Varia's clone-mates. Their auras were different, but physically they were virtually identical. And eternally twenty, as he was eternally twenty-five. Or if not eternally, close enough by human standards.
He wondered what Pastor Koht would say about that, or about this group bath.
After the two men got settled in the tub, Macurdy asked Liiset what she'd heard about Varia lately. It proved to be not very recent, but had probably not changed. Gavriel was emperor, and Cyncaidh his chief counselor. Though Liiset didn't say so, Macurdy suspected that Varia was Cyncaidh's close confidante, sounding board, and unofficial advisor. They lived in the capital most of the year. And they'd had a second son, who Liiset said was a teenager now.
"Do they seem to be getting along?"
She looked knowingly at him. "Presumably. Selira is Sarkia's ambassador there, and sees them from time to time at official occasions. And Selira reads auras very skillfully; all the ambassadors do. She'd be aware if anything was substantially wrong. And being Varia's clone-mate, I've asked to be kept on the information line."
He nodded absently. It was what he'd expected, and it seemed to him he should be glad. For Varia and Cyncaidh. But he'd nurtured a hope, small, perverse, and mostly suppressed, that Cyncaidh had reached decline, and that Varia would soon be unattached.
He wondered, then, about his sons by Varia, sons he'd never seen, who were claimed and held by the Sisterhood. He would, he promised himself, meet them, even if it required visiting the Cloister.
After his bath with the royal couple, Macurdy was given a bathrobe, and went to his room. His grungy fatigues had been taken away for laundering. He was about to go to bed when someone rapped on his door. He knew who it had to be, and put his bathrobe back on. "Come in," he called.
It was Omara who entered, as on his last night at the palace, those long years before. Her gaze was unreadable and steady, as always. Besides a high level of the "ylvin talent," her aura showed intelligence, honesty, calm strength, and light sexuality. And an abundant sense of responsibility.