“A truly clever conspirator might expect us to think exactly that, Prince Bahzell,” he pointed out after a moment.
“Aye, and so he might.” Bahzell nodded calmly. “Yet truth be told, Sir Jerhas, Cassan’s not so clever as all that.”
The Prime Councilor looked as skeptical as Yurokhas had a moment before, and Bahzell chuckled coldly.
“Don’t you be forgetting who my Da is! If you’re minded to watch a clever conspirator at his trade, you’ll not do better than him. Ruthless, yes-I’ll grant Cassan that. And crooked-minded as Sharna. But it’s only the power he was born with and the blackhearted greed of him makes him truly dangerous. It’s that as gives him so many others to be hiding behind and using. Aye, and throwing away as soon as ever it suits his needs.” The huge hradani’s expression was grim. “I’ve no use at all, at all, for a man as sets out to betray not only his oaths but all of those as have a right to look to him for justice and protection, and that’s a frame as fits Cassan like a glove. But it’s in my mind he’s not nearly so clever as he’s thinking he is, and it’s that will bring him down in the end.”
Sir Jerhas grimaced. Clearly he wasn’t precisely overjoyed to hear Bahzell predicting Cassan’s ultimate downfall, and in many ways, the hradani couldn’t blame him. Bringing Cassan down, however satisfying and however obvious the rogue baron’s guilt might become, would be a deadly dangerous business. The ties of personal loyalty ran deep among Sothoii; that was one of their greatest strengths. Yet it was one of their greatest weaknesses, as well, for many a lord warden and armsman would consider himself bound by his personal oath of fealty, no matter how great the guilt of the one to whom he’d given it. Cassan and Yeraghor of Ersok had far too many retainers who were likely to feel exactly that way, even in an open confrontation with the Crown, and it hadn’t been that many years since the Sothoii’s most recent “Time of Troubles.”
Which, after all, went a long way towards explaining how cautious King Markhos and his Prime Councilor had to be in their dealings with the emerging alliance of Tellian, Bahnak, and Kilthandahknarthas.
“You may well be right,” Yurokhas growled. “In fact, I hope you are, because the bastard can’t be ‘brought down’ too soon for me!”
The prince’s sincerity was obvious, and Sir Jerhas’ grimace became a genuine wince.
“I’d like to see him a foot or so shorter, myself, Your Highness,” Tellian observed mildly. “In fact, at the moment, with all due respect for Bahzell and Vaijon’s opinion as to who hired this particular lot of assassins, I probably have even more motivation than you do. Having said that, however, I’m not so certain your brother would thank you for saying that where anyone else might hear you. For that matter, I don’t think you’re doing Sir Jerhas’ peace of mind any great favor even now.”
Yurokhas looked at him for a moment, then gave himself a shake and barked another laugh.
“You’re right, of course, Brother,” he said, addressing Tellian not simply as one wind rider to another but as the long-ago youth who’d been fostered by Tellian’s father in Balthar. “I never was exactly noted for my patience, was I?”
“No, not so much,” Tellian agreed in a judicious tone. Then he chuckled and smacked the prince gently on the shoulder. “On the other hand, much as I would never have admitted it to you when you were a scrubby young terror, all elbows and knees, Your Highness, you’re not exactly the most thick-witted fellow I’ve ever known, either.”
“Spare my blushes,” Yurokhas snorted with a smile, and Bahzell wondered how many other Sothoii-if any-could have spoken to the prince that way.
Yurokhas stood for a moment, looking back and forth between Sir Jerhas, Tellian, and Bahzell, then gave himself another shake and drew a deep breath.
“Well,” he said briskly, “now that I’ve had the opportunity to get all that out of my system, I suppose it’s time we got down to business.”
“By all means, Your Highness,” Sir Jerhas said, bowing his guests towards the large, polished table set to catch the breeze billowing the silk hangings as it swept in off the balcony.
It would, perhaps, have been unfair to call the Prime Councilor’s expression relieved at the prince’s willingness to step back from his anger at Cassan, but it would have been headed in the right direction, Bahzell thought as he settled somewhat gingerly into his own chair. It creaked alarmingly under him, but it didn’t collapse.
Immediately, at least.
“Should I assume the fact that you came along for the trip indicates you and Tellian have settled your plans for the summer well enough to discuss them with me, Sir Vaijon?” Yurokhas asked once they were all seated, and Vaijon shrugged slightly.
“Mostly, Your Highness,” he agreed. “To be honest, I couldn’t actually have told you the real reason for my decision to accompany Bahzell and the Baron this time.” He smiled crookedly. “Tomanak has a tendency to send us where He needs us without necessarily explaining it all to us ahead of time. Unless I’m badly mistaken, though, this time around it was more to send another healer than another sword.”
“And I’m grateful for it,” Yurokhas said quietly. “But you do have a campaign plan?”
“We do.” Vaijon nodded. “Or the skeleton of one, at any rate. Baron Tellian and I still have to work out the exact number of armsmen he can make available.”
“Under Trianal?” Yurokhas asked, glancing at Tellian, who nodded.
“I really wish you wouldn’t risk him quite so readily, Milord,” Sir Jerhas said. Tellian looked at him, and the Prime Councilor shrugged. “I understand your thinking, and I won’t say you’re wrong, but the lad’s not even married yet.” Sir Jerhas shook his head. “It was difficult enough getting the Council to settle the succession on him in the first place.” There might have been a faint flicker of distaste in his eyes for the circumstances which had made that Council decision necessary, but no trace of it touched his voice as he continued. “If something happens to him before he produces an heir of his own, all of that work will have been for nothing in the end.”
“I appreciate that,” Tellian replied after a moment. His own tone was level, and he held Sir Jerhas’ gaze with his own for just a moment before he continued. “I appreciate it, and I’ve pointed out to him that it’s past time he be thinking about that. Hanatha…has some thoughts on the subject, as well. I think they’re very good thoughts, as a matter of fact, but the truth is that there’s no wife officially on the horizon for him yet, and in the meantime, someone needs to lead my armsmen and lords warden when I can’t. Besides, he’s already demonstrated his ability. He’s not simply my heir; he’s also one of my two or three best field commanders.”
Sir Jerhas nodded in unhappy acknowledgment. Not necessarily agreement, Bahzell thought, but in acceptance. No one needed to explain to the Prime Councilor how important it was for any baron’s heir, especially an heir-adoptive like Trianal, to prove his mettle in the eyes of the fighting men sworn to his service. Tellian couldn’t keep Trianal home if he himself wasn’t to take the field, not without some of his retainers’questioning his own confidence in the youngster’s capabilities.
That much, Sir Jerhas understood perfectly. However little he might like the thought of exposing Trianal-and, through him, the security of the West Riding’s succession-to that sort of danger, it came with the young man’s position and duties. But Bahzell also suspected the Prime Councilor was less than delighted with Tellian’s failure to demand Trianal settle down and choose a wife. Or, for that matter, to select a bride for him. That was the way it was supposed to work among the great Sothoii houses, after all. Yet Tellian’s tone made it obvious that whatever “thoughts” Hanatha might be having, he had no intention of forcing the issue any time soon, despite the near-disastrous consequences of his own…lack of marital resolution.