Shaping up despite the fact that something damned nearly did go wrong, he reminded himself. I don’t know what it was, but that miserable busybody Brayahs must’ve twigged to something. Bastard. He grimaced. I wonder if it was something Myacha noticed?
He didn’t know, and it was possible he never would, given the fact that Brayahs was dead and wouldn’t be around to do any explaining. It seemed likely, though, for the more Varnaythus had studied the baroness, the more he’d come to the conclusion that she was very strongly Gifted indeed. With the proper training-and attitude-she probably could have found her own place on the Council of Carnadosa. So it was quite probable she had noticed something and pointed Brayahs at it.
Not that it mattered. Oh, if Brayahs had somehow figured out what had happened-and convinced Borandas of it-his plan for enlisting the North Riding as Cassan’s ally had probably been knocked on the head. That would be inconvenient, although it might not matter all that much in the long run. In fact, he’d realized once he’d had time to think it over, it could even work out better than the vicious political fight to name Cassan or Yeraghor regent he’d anticipated. It might even lead to open civil war between the factions…assuming either Tellian or Trianal survived to lead their faction, at any rate. And his smile was thin as he contemplated how unlikely that was.
Well, I know Tellian, at least, isn’t going to be around much longer, one way or the other, he reminded himself. And the odds aren’t looking very good for poor Trianal at the moment, either. In fact, it could be that if Brayahs and Myacha have convinced Borandas of the truth, he might end up taking over for Tellian, and he’s nowhere near the soldier Tellian was. The wind riders would still side with him, though, and with his…limited talent leading one side and Cassan and Yeraghor leading the other, any Sothoii civil war could go on forever. It might even turn into something like that neverending mess in Ferenmoss! He smiled almost blissfully at the thought, then shook regretfully free of it. But the really important thing is that whatever Brayahs might have figured out or suspected, he didn’t get to the King or Tellian to warn them.
That was the one thing which might still have defeated that prong of their strategy. No matter what happened with Arthnar’s assassins or Cassan’s men, Markhos and Tellian and everyone with them would still die…as long as they remained at Chergor. Nothing this side of direct divine intervention could prevent that, and the theory behind his trap spell had obviously been correct. He’d felt the moment when it discharged, blotting Brayahs-or some wind-walker, at any rate-out of existence when he tried to reach Chergor.
And that’s worth knowing, too, he reflected. It’s about time we started getting a handle on how to deal with the Phrobus-damned magi! And now that I know it worked, I suppose I’m going to have to go ahead and share my research with the rest of the Council after all. Pity. I hate to give up the edge over the others, but the Lady wouldn’t approve of my holding it back if we’re as close to a major cusp point as I think we are. Then again, with my notes as a starting point, maybe we can come up with a way to just kill all the bastards and be done with it!
He smiled at the thought, sipped more wine, and returned his attention to the gramerhain before him. His viewpoint shifted and swooped about dizzyingly, but he was accustomed to that, and his smile went cold and cruel as he found Anshakar, Zurak, and Kimazh haranguing their army while shamans pounded their massive drums and no less than fifty thousand yammering, leaping, bounding ghouls salavated for their promised prey.
Not long, he thought. No, not long at all now.
Sir Tellian Bowmaster leaned back in the comfortable chair, contemplating the chessboard while he considered how best to respond to his opponent’s move.
Markhos Silveraxe, King of the Sothoii, had all the fierce drive to win one might have expected in the scion of a warrior dynasty, and quite a few of his courtiers, Tellian knew, would have made sure that winning was exactly what the King accomplished. The more adroit would have contrived to lose in a fashion which disguised their intentions, but all too many of them would simply and cheerfully have thrown the game and then gushed fulsome compliments on Markhos’ skill which both they and the King would have known were as insincere as their desire to win had been.
And the King would have accepted the victory, smiling as if he were completely unaware of what they’d done. But behind his smile he would have marked them down for what they were…and he would never have fully trusted them again. Markhos was not a perfect monarch-few monarchs were-but susceptibility to sycophancy had never been one of his failings.
Tellian’s problem at the moment, however, was that although he was generally a better player than the King, this time the only options available to him were as unpalatable as they were limited. It was really unfair of Markhos to have departed from his normally aggressive, straightforward tactics and set the trap which had just cost Tellian both his king’s castle and his queen’s bishop and left his own king in check. Of course, it was his own fault he hadn’t seen it coming, and he rather suspected that his reaction when he realized what he’d stumbled into would have handily quelled any suspicion the King might have cherished about his own determination to win.
“You are going to move sometime this afternoon, I trust, Milord?” the King said now, and smiled as Tellian looked up at him sharply. Markhos’ sleek mustache was less bushy than Tellian’s, and the King stroked it with a thoughtful fingertip. “It’s not that I’m trying to rush you, you understand,” he continued, “but I believe supper will be served in only another two or three hours.”
“Your forbearance is deeply appreciated, Sire.” Tellian’s tone was…dry, to say the least. “Somehow, though, I suspect you’re not in all that great a hurry, though.”
“No?” The king arched an eyebrow. “And why would that be?”
“Because you have me well and truly in a hole, and you’re enjoying every moment of it.”
“Nonsense,” Markhos replied in a remarkably insincere tone, and Tellian smiled. “Well, perhaps just a bit,” the King conceded, holding up his thumb and index finger four inches or so apart. “I have lost the occasional game to you in the past. Of course,” his smile faded and his gaze sharpened, “I’m not precisely alone in that, am I? I really do hope this whole canal business isn’t going to turn out as ugly as it has the potential to become.”
“Your Majesty-” Tellian began, but the King’s raised hand stopped him in midsentence.
“I’m not suggesting I’m going to change my mind, Milord,” he said. “And you don’t have to bring in Yurokhas to see to it that I don’t. Not that his support would do you all that much good at the moment. I’m just a bit irked with him, given his…disinclination to obey my instructions to join me here instead of running around with that heir of yours on the Ghoul Moor.” Markhos smiled thinly. “But I’m not irked enough to change my mind about your charter. You don’t even have to get Jerhas in here for that, because the simple truth is that your entire proposal makes far too much sense for me not to support it. Yet that doesn’t blind me to how Cassan and Yeraghor are going to react-or to the fact that they’re hardly going to be alone when they do.”
“Your Majesty, I’m truly sorry my long-standing…disagreement with Cassan should have such implications for the Kingdom as a whole,” Tellian said. “I’m sure my ‘unnatural’ suggestion that we might actually try coexisting with the hradani would have infuriated someone else if he hadn’t been available, but there’s no denying the bad blood between us is like a forge bellows where his reaction to it is concerned. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there’s enough ‘bad blood’ from my side for the thought of just how infuriated he truly is-and how badly this is going to hurt him-to give me a certain sense of satisfaction.” The baron met his monarch’s gaze levelly as he made that admission. “But even so, if he’d been willing to meet me even a fraction of the way, I would have been more than prepared to set aside a portion of my own increased revenues to compensate him for what I expect him to lose in trade through Nachfalas. It would have stuck in my throat like a fish bone, but I would have done it.”