‹ Could you tell us why they’ve waited this long to try again? › Walsharno asked.
‹ I can’t tell you all the reasons, › Tomanak replied after a moment. ‹ I will tell you, though, that between the two of you, Kaeritha, and Vaijon, you’ve done more damage to the Dark Gods’ access to this universe than you can imagine.› Walsharno and Bahzell sensed his fierce satisfaction, his pride in them. ‹ I suspect none of them would be willing to admit it, especially not to themselves, but they’re actually afraid of you. That’s one of the reasons they’ve waited, and if they had a choice, they wouldn’t cross swords with you-or me-again even now. But they don’t have a choice. Those threads I mentioned aren’t just flowing together any longer; they’re becoming a cascade, gathering power like snowmelt in the East Walls, the sort of flood that washes away mountains, and it could turn in any of dozens of directions. Be warned, My Swords-there are few limits to what they will do to control that direction if they can.›
And here they’ve been so shy and hesitant about all they’ve been doing so far, Bahzell thought in a wondering tone, and Tomanak chuckled.
‹ Fair enough, Bahzell,› he conceded. ‹ Fair enough. But rejoice in what you’ve accomplished so far, the two of you, and rest here until Dathgar and Tellian and Tarith and the others are ready to travel once more. It will take more than a day or two for most of those who wish you ill to discover just how badly yesterday’s ambush failed.›
Bahzell looked at Walsharno as he felt a huge, immaterial hand rest on his shoulder for just an instant. Then it was gone, and as he drew a deep breath he realized the entire conversation had taken place between one heartbeat and the next, without Hathan or Gayrhalan sensing a thing about it.
“Aye, Hathan,” he said, resuming the conversation the other wind rider had no idea had ever been interrupted, “it’s lucky we were to lose so few. And speaking of luck,” he straightened, smiling wickedly, “what say the lot of us go have a word or three with those lads as were giving oath to Tomanak yesterday? I’ve the oddest feeling as how it might just be they’ll find it in their hearts to be telling us what it is we’d like to know.”
Chapter Ten
“Leeana is here, Five Hundred.”
Commander of Five Hundred Balcartha Evahnalfressa looked up from the paperwork on her desk, one eyebrow raised as she regarded the youthful war maid currently detailed as her aide. It was a rotating assignment which was usually shared by the newest and most junior members of the Kalatha City Guard…much to their trepidation. Most of them thought that things were arranged that way to be sure they were suitably terrified by the Guard’s commander before they were released to the general population. In fact, it was so that they got an inside look at how the Guard ran as early in their careers as possible…and so that Balcartha had the opportunity to personally evaluate each of them. The Guard wasn’t all that enormous, after all. Certainly, it wasn’t so big that she couldn’t actually know each of her war maids, yet new recruits had a pronounced tendency to hide from their commanding officer in the underbrush, at least until they got their feet under them. Balcartha understood that. She even sympathized with them. Yet she had no intention of allowing them to get away with it, either.
“Leeana, Taraiys?” the five hundred asked in a musing tone, and the girl-she couldn’t have been a day over seventeen-blushed rosily. It was a fascinating shade of deep red, Balcartha noted, and Taraiys’ blond hair, blue eyes, and very fair complexion made it even more spectacular.
“I beg your pardon, Five Hundred,” she said stiffly. “I meant to say that Seventy-Five Leeana is here. She says she has an appointment.”
“Ah- that Leeana,” Balcartha murmured, and watched Taraiys’ blush turn even darker. For a moment, the five hundred wondered if smoke was actually going to curl up off of the girl’s skin. But she didn’t quite burst into spontaneous flames, and after a moment, the Guard commander relented and smiled slightly. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been expecting the Seventy-Five. Please ask her to step into my lair.”
“Yes, Five Hundred!” Taraiys actually came to attention and touched her chest with a raised fist in salute, and Balcartha managed not to crack a smile as she solemnly returned it. Then she leaned comfortably back in her swivel chair, legs crossed, propped her elbows on the chair arms, and steepled her fingers under her chin.
“Seventy-Five Leeana, Five Hundred!” Taraiys announced with sharp formality a moment later, opening the door and ushering the considerably taller Leeana through it. Her head barely topped the older war maid’s shoulder, and Leanna’s jade-green eyes danced with devilish delight as they met the five hundred’s over Taraiys head. Her lips quivered with her womanful struggle to restrain the smile obviously dancing right behind those eyes, but somehow she managed to maintain a suitably solemn demeanor when Balcartha gave her a warning glance.
“Thank you, Taraiys,” the five hundred said solemnly. “That will be all, I think.”
“Yes, Five Hundred!” Taraiys saluted again and disappeared through the office door with the air of a rabbit escaping down its hole, perhaps half a leap in front of the fox. The door closed behind her, and something suspiciously like a giggle spurted out of Leeana.
“That will be quite enough of that, Seventy-Five Leeana,” Balcartha said primly.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Five Hundred Balcartha!” Leeana said earnestly. “Mother! She was so red when you sent her back out I thought you’d set her on fire!” The tall, redhaired young woman shook her head. “What did you say to her?”
“That’s between her and me.” Balcartha smiled and shook her own head. “She does color up spectacularly though, doesn’t she?”
“Oh, I think you could certainly say that,” Leeana agreed. Then she smiled a bit penitently. “I really shouldn’t make fun of her for it though, I suppose. I can produce a pretty spectacular blush of my own, can’t I?”
“On the rare occasions when anyone can manage to embarrass you, yes,” Balcartha agreed.
“Are you implying that such a low person as myself no longer has the delicacy to feel embarrassment?” Leeana asked innocently, and Balcartha chuckled.
“Something like that…these days, at least,” she agreed, and Leeana threw up her right hand as if she were acknowledging a touch in a training match.
“I deserved that,” she acknowledged. “But she really is awfully young, isn’t she?”
“This from the broken down old grandmother in front of me?” Balcartha raised both eyebrows. “I seem to remember a fourteen — year-old who didn’t know which end of the dagger to hold when Erlis and Ravlahn first evaluated her. Now, let me see, let me see…what was her name?”
She gazed up at the ceiling, lips pursed in obvious thought, and Leeana laughed.
“You really are training with live blades today, aren’t you, Five Hundred Balcartha?”
“Only against some,” Balcartha replied with a twinkle.
As the commander of the Kalatha Guard, she wasn’t supposed to have favorites, and she never allowed favoritism to govern her actions, but there was no point pretending she didn’t have a special place in her heart for Leeana Hanathafressa. She did remember-vividly-the pampered fourteen-year-old noblewoman who’d fled to Kalatha almost seven years before. Not that Leanna had realized she’d been pampered, and by the standards of her birth rank, she hadn’t been. Which hadn’t changed the fact that, as Balcartha had just pointed out, she’d been totally unequipped with the skills her new life was going to require of her. Her embarrassment at finding herself clad-more or less-in the traditional chari and yathu had been only too apparent to someone with Balcartha’s experience, and unlike most war maids, Leanna hadn’t fled to Kalatha to escape an intolerable, all too often abusive family situation. Indeed, she’d escaped to Kalatha no more than hours in front of her pursuing father because of how much she’d loved her parents, and she’d been miserably homesick and unhappy at leaving them, however bravely she’d tried to hide it.