“I hope you’ll forgive me for this, Talthar,” Bronzehelm said now, “but I know damned well it’s not ‘happenstance’!” He shook his head. “I see how you’ve become so immoderately wealthy, given that eye of yours.”
“Rubies do go well with her hair, don’t they?” Sheafbearer observed, and Bronzehelm snorted. “On the other hand, however good my eye might be, I don’t seem to have a very good sense of timing, do I?” The merchant grimaced. “I seem to’ve developed a positive talent for visiting Halthan while the Baron and his lady are away!”
“I suppose so.” Bronzehelm nodded. “On the other hand, given how expensive it is whenever you don’t miss them, I’m not going to pretend I’m brokenhearted by it.”
“The Baron truly does love to surprise her, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does, bless him. And every time he does, Her Ladyship scolds him for ‘wasting money’ on her…and then you come along and convince him to do it all over again.”
“Nonsense. I don’t convince him to do a thing, and you know it.” Sheafbearer waved a finger at the seneschal across his desk. “I simply assist him in doing exactly what he would have freely chosen to do without any prompting from me at all.”
“I suppose that’s one way to describe it,” Bronzehelm said dryly, and Talthar chuckled.
“Well, I’m not going to get rich trying to sell you anything, now am I?” He shook his head, surveying the plainly dressed seneschal. Bronzehelm was always neatly, even impeccably, attired, yet he obviously had no taste for the rings and neck chains many a Sothoii noble favored.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to restrain my tears of sympathy,” Bronzehelm said even more dryly. “In light of how rich you’re getting off of certain other parties here in Halthan, that is.”
“Such heartlessness,” Sheafbearer sighed. Then he brightened. “On the other hand, I might actually have something to tempt you with this time.”
“You can try, anyway,” Bronzehelm told him.
“All right, I will.”
Sheafbearer unlocked the sturdy gem case he carried with him everywhere. He reached into it and rummaged about for a moment before he brought out a remarkably plain golden ring, its band set with a single modest-sized (though very well-cut) emerald. He held it in the palm of his left hand for a moment, stroking the emerald with the tip of his right index finger as if it were a small, friendly animal, then offered it to Bronzehelm.
“I think this might be plain enough even for you,” he said, extending it across the desk.
“Really?” Bronzehelm reached for it, and the merchant dropped it into his hand. “I’ll admit, I never been partial to the more gaudy-”
The ring’s emerald flashed brightly, just once, and Sir Dahlnar Bronzehelm’s froze, sightless brown eyes locked to the small golden circlet on his palm.
Master Varnaythus smiled at the abruptly motionless seneschal of the North Riding. There was an undeniable edge of nervousness in that smile, yet any anxiety was more than compensated for by sheer satisfaction.
Bronzehelm had worked out even better than Varnaythus had anticipated. His susceptibility to the rather exotic “herbs” the wizard’s art had unobtrusively introduced into his diet was even more pronounced than Varnaythus had allowed himself to hope. It often worked out that way, however. Intelligent people accustomed to thinking clearly and concisely seemed to have less inherent resistance once someone managed to begin suggesting things to them with the proper…pharmaceutical enhancements. That very clarity and concision could be marshalled against them, put to work in the service of justifying and rationalizing the ideas others had inserted into their thoughts.
It was just as well Bronzehelm was more susceptible to them, though, Varnaythus thought, his smile fading, given how much more rapidly he’d found himself forced to act in the seneschal’s case. He hadn’t anticipated that Markhos would decide to come out so unambiguously in Tellian’s favor so soon, and he’d hoped for at least another two or three months-possibly even the full length of the summer-to “adjust” Bronzehelm’s thinking, if only to keep anyone from wondering about the rapidity with which it had shifted.
Unfortunately, Thorandas had been more eager to seek Shairnayith’s hand than Varnaythus had expected. Then Markhos had reached a formal decision in Tellian’s case, and, finally, there was Anshakar and his fellows. Varnaythus had always had his doubts about introducing them into the Ghoul Moor quite so soon, given how…tenuous his control over them was bound to be. Yet they’d needed to get the ghouls organized early in Tellian and Bahnak’s current campaign, and only Krashnark’s devils could have hoped to accomplish that. And he didn’t like the change in emphasis which had crept into his instructions from his own Lady.
He didn’t know if it was Her idea or if it had been “suggested” by Her father, and he couldn’t really quibble with the logic behind it, but it was unlike Her to change plans in midstream. And it was at least partly his own fault for emphasizing the advantages of recreating the Time of Troubles here in the Kingdom, he supposed. He’d intended it as a fallback position, an alternative prize he could offer in the interests of his personal survival if the plan to eliminate Bahzell failed (as such plans had a demonstrated tendency to do). Unfortunately, those advantages had been as evident to Her and the other Dark Gods as they were to him, and They’d decided They wanted both possibilities followed up. Indeed, They’d demanded that both strategies be pursued, all of which meant things were moving faster than Varnaythus might have preferred. Not that there was any point in expecting his Mistress or Her siblings to sympathize with him. They didn’t care how inconvenient or worrisome Their servants might find their lives as long as they produced the desired result, after all.
And it doesn’t help that I have to figure out how to avoid that bastard Brayahs while I’m about it, he thought sourly. The truth is, Dahlnar my friend, that I’d love to have more opportunities to work directly on the Baron, if I weren’t so worried that his darling wife or his cousin the mage might notice it. Unfortunately, that’s out of the question, which leaves me with you. And I need to pick moments when dear, sweet Brayahs is away if I want a little quality time even with you…
Working around the mage wasn’t the only challenge Varnaythus faced, despite Bronzehelm’s susceptibility, and some of those additional challenges were more worrisome than others. Especially since he’d come to the conclusion that Baroness Myacha was profoundly opposed to Thorandas’ marriage to Shairnayith. He’d expected her to be less than enthusiastic about the proposal, yet the strength of her opposition had taken him by surprise, and he’d been a bit surprised by the shrewdness of her insight into the political realities-and potential liabilities-behind it. Fortunately, perhaps, that very shrewdness had led her to doubt anything would come of Thorandas’ ambitions in that direction, given Borandas’ long-standing policies and the North Riding’s traditional neutrality between Cassan and Tellian, so she’d been willing to bide her time. There’d be plenty of time for her to advise against the match if it should begin to seem likely, and the bad news was that despite her youth, Baron Borandas clearly valued her advice and took it seriously.
The good news was that she seemed to be determined to avoid even the appearance of “meddling” in his decisions. If Varnaythus had her analyzed properly, that determination sprang not from any lack of strong opinions but from an adamant resolve that no one was going to think of Borandas as some feeble-witted old man who could be manipulated through his marriage bed. She would give her advice, if it was asked for, but she was unlikely to press her views strongly unless they were asked for. That was all to the good, but it also meant that if she saw him about to do something she feared could seriously hurt him, she might very well abandon that restraint.