Still, he reminded himself, there were certain standards of courtesy, even with war maids. Although exactly how one went about politely greeting this particular covey of guests was beyond him. “Ladies” was out of the question, and most of the terms one normally applied to war maids scarcely came under the heading of polite at the best of times.
He opened his mouth to begin, but Arm Shahana raised her hand before he could speak.
“We apologize for breaking in on you so discourteously, My Lord,” she said quickly, and his eyes narrowed as he recognized the tension in her eyes and the harshness of her voice. “Unfortunately, what brings us here leaves little time for courtesy.”
“Indeed?” He looked back and forth between her and the other two women, and his stomach tightened as he saw the matching tension in the two war maids, the coiled tautness of their muscles. He thought about several things he might have said and discarded all of them.
“May I know what does bring you here, Milady?” he asked instead.
“Treason, Milord,” she said flatly, and his narrowed eyes widened abruptly. He darted a look at the older war maid’s face and saw the flat, hard agreement in her expression.
“In that case,” he said after a moment, “please join me in my office-all three of you-where we can speak freely.”
Leeana sat in the wooden chair beside the narrow, converted archer’s slit that formed one of Trisu’s office windows. She and Balcartha had let Shahana carry the burden of recounting Master Brayahs’ story to Trisu. In fact, she’d deliberately kept her mouth closed lest she put up the lord warden’s back, although she’d responded as concisely and completely as she could when he’d fired a half-dozen questions in her direction. And to his credit, they’d been clear, concise questions…and he’d completely ignored the fact that she was a war maid-and her father’s daughter-as he concentrated on her answers. She couldn’t help thinking it was a pity it took something like this to get past his automatic prejudices, but it was obvious his brain was working, and he’d wasted far less time grasping the essentials than she would have expected out of most people.
“So we don’t know for certain what’s happening,” he said now. “Except, of course,” his face tightened, “that we know for damned sure-pardon my language, Milady,” he glanced apologetically at Shahana, “-that sorcery’s involved in it somewhere!”
“Actually, Milord, we do know one other thing,” Shahana said. He raised an eyebrow invitingly, and she shrugged. “Whatever’s happening, and whoever’s behind it, they took steps to prevent Master Brayahs from reaching the King at Chergor when he learned of it.”
Trisu’s jaw tightened and he gave a jerky nod.
“Fair enough, Milady. And it follows from that that if they wanted to prevent him from reaching the King, presumably they don’t want anyone else doing it, either.”
“They don’t want anyone else doing it in time, Milord,” Leeana heard someone else say with her voice, and Trisu’s gray eyes flicked to her. She met them levelly, then shrugged. “There wouldn’t have been any point in stopping a single mage-or anyone else-if they don’t have a plan already in place and operating,” she said flatly. “I don’t know what that plan might be, but I do know we’re the only people in the entire Kingdom who know they’re planning anything.”
“An excellent point…Milady,” he replied after a moment. “And since we are, then clearly it’s our responsibility to do something about it. The question is what we can do.”
“How many armsmen could you ride with within the hour, Milord?” Shahana asked.
“Perhaps twenty-five-thirty, at the most,” Trisu said. “It would take several hours to summon more than that.”
“And I have twenty of the Temple Guard at Kalatha.” Shahana shook her head, her face tight with worry. “Fifty isn’t a huge force-especially when there may be wizardry involved.”
“But fifty is fifty better than none, Milady,” Trisu countered. “And Lorham’s the closest wardenship.”
“I have a suggestion,” Leeana said after a moment. All of them looked at her, and she shrugged again. “War maids weigh less than most armsmen, Milord, and as you say, it’s not a long trip from here to Chergor. Your armsmen’s horses could carry double that far, and Kalatha could probably provide another twenty or thirty mounts. They won’t be as good as the ones under your or the Arm’s armsmen, but they’ll be a lot better than none. Split the difference in numbers and call it twenty-five, and that gets you from fifty to a hundred and fifty.”
Trisu’s eyes hardened in instant, automatic rejection, and his mouth opened. But then he paused, mouth still open, looking at her. Silence hovered for at least ten seconds before he drew a deep breath and nodded.
“You’re right,” he said, and Leeana saw her own surprise at his response mirrored in Balcartha’s eyes. He obviously saw it, too, and he flashed his teeth in something which bore at least a passing resemblance to a genuine smile.
“At this moment, what I care about are swords and hands to wield them,” he said. “I’ll worry about whether or not they’re ‘proper’ hands later.”
“Good, Milord,” Shahana said. “But we’re going to need at least two other horses.” Trisu cocked his head at her. “We’ve got to send word to Balthar and to Sothofalas,” she said.
“Agreed.” He looked at her for another long moment, then inhaled sharply. “To Balthar and Sothofalas…but not to Toramos.” The silence crackled with sudden tension, and he smiled even more mirthlessly than before. “If I’m being unjust to Baron Cassan, I can always apologize later. For now, we all have more important things to worry about. And my loyalty and my oaths are to the Crown and”-he met Leeana’s eyes very levelly-“to the Baron of Balthar.”
“Well said,” Shahana said quietly. “But even if yours is the closest wardenship, it’s going to take time for us to get there.”
“True,” Trisu acknowledged. “And that’s why at least one of us won’t be riding with the rest of us.” Shahana frowned, and he raised his hand, pointing at Leeana. “If you have a wind rider, Milady, you don’t hold him-or her-back when speed is of the essence.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Master Varnaythus took another sip of truly excellent wine and leaned back, glass in hand, to contemplate the images in the heart of his gramerhain. Malahk Sahrdohr had joined him in his working chamber once more, finished at last with his assumed identity as Mahrahk Firearrow. Today was the day their plans came to fruition…or didn’t. Either way, “Firearrow’s” utility would be limited in the aftermath.
“Arthnar’s men are only five miles from Chergor,” Sahrdohr reported, looking up from his own gramerhain, and Varnaythus smiled.
There was anticipation in that smile, and more than a trace of relief. Keeping all the necessary balls in the air simultaneously had been more taxing than he’d anticipated, even for a juggler as skilled he was, but he’d managed to pull it off after all. In fact, everything was coming together-down on the Ghoul Moor, as well as here on the Wind Plain-literally simultaneously. That was a piece of work his Lady was going to appreciate, given all the scores of things that could have gone wrong along the way.
His own stone showed Trianal Bowmaster’s army, moving steadily down the course of the Hangnysti River…towards a rendezvous with a rather nastier handful than they anticipated, he thought smugly. It wouldn’t be so very many hours before they were finding out about that, and in the meantime, things were shaping up very nicely farther to the north