He found himself seated alongside the representatives of the Faith at the top table. Only the Second, Fourth and Fifth Orders had Houses in the Reaches. The Sixth had never established itself here, local security resting in the hands of the North Guard by royal command. Dahrena said the official reason was that the security of the greater Realm was deemed of higher importance in the Sixth’s already long list of responsibilities, but her father always suspected it had more to do with Janus’s keenness to keep them well away from his supply of bluestone.
Vaelin was surprised to find Brother Hollun of the Fourth Order the most talkative of the Faithful. A rotund and jovial fellow with the permanent squint of the near-sighted, he talked at length about the history of the Reaches and his Order’s work in keeping accurate records of local trade, especially where bluestone was concerned. “Did you know, my lord,” he said, leaning closer to Vaelin than was strictly necessary, probably to get a clear look at his face, “more money passes through the three banks in this town in a month than in the whole of Varinshold in a year?”
“I did not, brother,” Vaelin replied. “Tell me, how regular is your correspondence with Aspect Tendris?”
“Oh”-the black-robed brother gave a shrug-“perhaps once a year a letter comes, usually with advice on how to ensure the Faith of my junior brothers doesn’t waver in these difficult times. At so far a remove from the Order House, we can hardly expect to occupy the Aspect’s attention when other matters are more pressing, I’m sure.”
Sister Virula of the Second Order was less talkative. She was a thin woman of middling years with a somewhat morose air, her conversation limited to softly spoken complaints about Captain Adal’s refusal to provide an escort for her intended mission to the horse-tribes of the Eorhil Sil. “An entire nation barred from the Faith through simple lack of will, brother,” she told Vaelin, seemingly incapable of addressing him by his correct honorific. “I can assure you my Aspect is very displeased.”
“Sister,” Dahrena said in a weary tone. “The last group of missionaries sent to the Eorhil Sil were found bound and gagged outside the tower gate. My father raised the matter at the autumn horse trade and the answer was quite clear; they don’t like to hear your bad talk about the dead.”
Sister Virula closed her eyes, briefly recited the Catechism of the Faith under her breath and returned to her soup.
The Fourth Order was represented by Brother Kehlan, a man of some fifty or so years with a serious look who regarded Vaelin with the same wary suspicion he saw on most faces around him.
“Would I be right, brother,” he asked the healer, “in judging you the longest-serving member of the Orders in the Reaches?”
“I am, my lord,” Kehlan replied, pouring himself some more wine. “Some thirty years now.”
“Brother Kehlan came north with my father,” Dahrena explained, touching an affectionate hand to the brother’s sleeve. “He has been my tutor for as long as I can remember.”
“Lady Dahrena has an excellent knowledge of the healing arts,” Kehlan said. “In truth she’s more my tutor these days than I am hers, what with all the curatives she brings back from the Seordah. They’re often remarkably effective.”
“You visit with the Seordah, my lady?” Vaelin asked her. “I was given to believe they forbid entry to their forest.”
“Not to her,” Kehlan said. “In fact I doubt there’s a path in the Northern Reaches she couldn’t walk in complete safety.” He leaned forward to meet Vaelin’s gaze, some wine sloshing from his overfilled cup. “Such is the respect and affection she commands here.”
Vaelin gave an affable nod in reply. “Of that I have little doubt.”
“Are the Seordah very fierce, Lady Dahrena?” Alornis asked. She was seated on Vaelin’s left and had said little all evening, clearly disconcerted by the unfamiliarity of the circumstance. “All I know of them are rather fanciful tales from the histories.”
“No fiercer than I,” Dahrena replied. “For I am Seordah.”
“I thought my lady was of Lonak descent,” Vaelin said.
“I am. But my husband was Seordah, and so, by their custom, am I.”
“You have a Seordah husband?” Alornis asked.
“I did.” Dahrena looked down at her wine cup, smiling sadly. “We met when the Horde came out of the north and my father called for aid from the Seordah, he was amongst the thousands who answered. I would have married him the very day I met him but for father’s insistence I wait for my majority. After we were wed I lived amongst them for three years until . . .” She sighed and took a sip of wine. “The war between Lonak and Seordah has never ended. It raged long before your people came here and will no doubt rage for centuries to come, claiming many more husbands.”
“I’m sorry,” Alornis said.
Dahrena smiled and patted her hand. “Love once and live forever, so the Seordah say.”
The sadness in her eyes stirred memories of Sherin, her face the day he had placed her in Ahm Lin’s arms, the hours he spent watching the ship take her away . . .
“Might I enquire what plans my lord has for the morrow?” Brother Hollun said, calling his attention back to the table. “I have several months worth of records requiring the Tower Lord’s signature.”
“I have business at Nehrin’s Point,” Vaelin replied. “I would like to introduce my sister to some friends I’m told reside there. We’ll see to the records when I return, brother.”
Sister Virula stiffened at mention of the settlement. “Do I understand, brother, that you intend to visit the Dark Clave?”
Vaelin frowned at her. “Dark Clave, sister?”
“Just silly rumours, my lord,” Dahrena said. “The kind that always beset those with unfamiliar ways. The Reaches have ever been a refuge for exiles, people of differing faiths and customs, outlawed in their homelands. A long-standing tradition of the Tower Lord’s dominion.”
“One not to be overthrown without very careful consideration,” Brother Kehlan said, downing what was probably his sixth cup of wine. “New blood enriches us, Vanos always said. Something you’d do well to remember.”
Vaelin found he didn’t like the threat in the man’s voice, drunk or not. “Brother, if serving me is such an irksome task, you have my leave to return to the Realm at your earliest convenience.”
“Return to the Realm?” Kehlan grew red in the face, getting to his feet, shaking off Dahrena’s restraining hand. “This is my realm, my home. And who are you? Some vaunted killer from the mad king’s failed war?”
“Brother!” Captain Adal came forward, grasping the healer’s arm and pulling him away. “You forget yourself. Too much wine, my lord,” he said to Vaelin.
“Do you have any notion of the greatness of the man you pretend to replace?” Kehlan raged on, tearing free of Adal’s grip. “How much these people loved him? How much they love her?” His finger stabbed at Dahrena who sat with eyes closed in despair. “You are not needed here, Al Sorna! You are not wanted!” He continued to rant as Adal and another North Guard hustled him from the chamber, leaving a taut silence in his wake.
“And I thought this evening was destined to end without any entertainment,” Vaelin said.
The words provoked only a small ripple of laughter, but it was enough to herald a return of conversation, albeit muted.
“My lord.” Dahrena leaned close to Vaelin, speaking in hushed but earnest tones. “My father’s death was very hard on Brother Kehlan. The illness that took him was beyond his skill to heal. He has not been himself since.”
“He spoke treason,” Sister Virula said, her voice a touch smug. “He said King Janus was mad. I heard him.”