"But even if Tellian is gutless enough to swallow the shame, the fact that his precious daughter has seen fit to join one side of the dispute will compel him to be very careful about his own position," Triahm said. "If he supports the war maids, he'll be accused of favoritism."
"Perhaps so," Varnaythus said. "On the other hand, if he openly supports Trisu, at least some people will accuse him of doing so because he's angry with the war maids and wants to punish them."
"Either outcome could be useful to us," Triahm observed, beginning to play with a crystal paperweight from his desk. "His neutrality has worked against us from the start. It throws everything back to the local level and prevents Trisu from acting decisively."
"He won't be able to remain neutral very much longer, whatever happens with his daughter," Varnaythus assured him. "Unless I very much miss my guess, the tension on both sides is rapidly approaching the critical level."
He considered informing Triahm of who had become Leeana's escort to Kalatha, and decided-again-that warning him of the incipient arrival of a champion of Tomanâk in Lorham wouldn't exactly fill him with confidence.
"When it does, it's going to lead to open conflict between Trisu and Kalatha, probably with Quaysar going up in flames at the same time," he said instead, and his smile was even nastier than Triahm's had been. "Once it comes to outright warfare, Tellian's going to be forced to take a position, whether he wants to or not, or be accused of ignoring his responsibility to enforce the King's peace. Under the circumstances, I don't believe he'll have very much choice other than to back his own vassal, Trisu, against Kalatha."
"Only, of course, it won't be Trisu, will it?" An ugly light danced in Triahm's gray eyes, and Varnaythus carefully hid a smile of triumph. The man was so predictable it was pathetic.
"Not if our plans succeed, Milord," he agreed.
"And they will succeed," Triahm said flatly, and gave Varnaythus an ominous glance. "Your man is already in position, is he not?"
"Have no fear, Milord," Varnaythus said smoothly. "My agent-" if Triahm wanted to assume that Varnaythus' assassin (well, Salgahn's, if the wizard-priest wanted to be accurate) was a man, that was fine with him "- is ready to strike when the moment is right. But that moment won't come until we can provoke the proper level of violence between your cousin and Kalatha and be sure suspicion is directed where we want it to go."
"Understood, understood," Triahm said in an irritated tone, waving one hand dismissively. "Of course the timing is critical. But once he's gone, and the blame for his death is laid in the proper quarter, there will be no suspicions of me when I assume the titles which ought to have been mine. And it will give me the excuse I need to burn that cancer at Kalatha out of the flesh of Lorham once and for all!"
"So it will, Milord," Varnaythus agreed. "So it will."
"He truly is an idiot, isn't he?"
"Triahm?" a soft, throaty contralto said from behind Varnaythus. The contralto's owner laughed. "Are you only just now realizing that?"
"Scarcely, Dahlaha," Varnaythus said dryly. It was his turn to gaze out of a window over the night-darkened streets of Thalar. It was a much nicer window than the one in Triahm's office, although Triahm had paid for both of them.
The wizard-priest craned his neck, gazing up past the luxurious mansion's overhanging eaves at a night sky the color of darkest cobalt and full of stars. There was no moon tonight, which was probably a good sign, he told himself. Then he turned away from the stars and back to business.
His hostess, reclining on the chaise longue across the table from him, was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. He admitted that candidly, yet her beauty didn't really appeal to him. He could appreciate and admire her sleek, golden hair and huge blue eyes, the impeccable bone structure of her graceful, oval face and high cheekbones, and the svelte lines of the richly curved figure which hovered just this side of overripeness. But the pouting mouth that whispered passion to other men whispered to him of corruption.
There was something too perfect about Dahlaha Farrier's sensual beauty. Not even Varnaythus could be certain, but he strongly suspected that her natural appearance had been significantly improved upon. Unfortunately, improving the packaging had made no difference to what lived inside it, which was hardly surprising. Women who turned to Dahlaha's chosen deity were already corrupt, with a soul-deep twistedness, because only a woman who was could endure Her service. Priestesses like Dahlaha could count upon being gifted with eye-catching physical beauty, if they did not already possess it, but no amount of enhanced beauty was going to change that inner distortion.
Varnaythus enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh as much or more than the next man, and he had no inherent objection to corruption. But there was a hunger to Dahlaha's corruption-one as dark as Jerghar's lust for blood, although it yearned for something quite different. Varnaythus had no illusions about what would ultimately happen to any man who surrendered himself to Dahlaha's power.
"Of course I've always known Triahm is a fool," the wizard-priest continued, settling himself into the more conventional chair he preferred to the chaise longues Dahlaha favored. No doubt so that she could display her indisputable charms to best advantage. "If he weren't a fool, he wouldn't be the tool we need. And if stupidity and ambition didn't blind him to everything but what he wants, he might ask himself a few awkward questions about just where and how you were able to find him 'hirelings' with our capabilities. But despite all that, it genuinely annoys me to find myself helping an idiot like that supplant someone who at least has a working brain."
"What's this? The conspirator as philosopher?" Dahlaha laughed again. "Or is it just a case of pragmatic necessity offending your innate sense of artistry?"
"The latter, probably," Varnaythus said. He leaned forward and snagged another apple from the table. It was from the previous fall's harvest, and its skin was wrinkled, but its taste remained pleasantly sweet.
"Say what you will about Cassan," he continued as he chewed, "the man is at least competent within the limits of what he knows is going on. And he has two or three people working for him who are very good at what they do-like Darnas Warshoe." He shook his head and took another bite of apple. "Warshoe's good enough that I actually had to hunt him down and arrange for him to stumble over 'Cathman the Peddler.' "
"Oh?" Dahlaha laughed. "Are you still using that old faker as an alias?"
"It works," Varnaythus replied with a grin. "And even though he's considered a harmless old crank, he does manage to find a few charms and protective amulets that actually work. Fortunately for us, Cassan's one real weakness is an absolute phobia about magi reading his mind." The wizard-priest shrugged. "It's silly of him, of course, but it inspired him to send Warshoe to Cathman for amulets to prevent it as soon as Warshoe reported that Cathman was in Toramos. Amulets of my own design, of course. And the beauty of it is that Cassan insists that all of his closest henchmen wear them at all times, to keep magi from picking their brains, so now I can keep track of all of them without even needing my gramerhain. Which is probably a good thing, given how busy Cassan keeps them-especially Warshoe."
"Well, that's Cassan, not Triahm," she said. "But if it makes you feel better about helping an idiot, just remember how unlikely he is to survive long enough to enjoy his success. As you said yourself, his incompetence was one of the reasons They chose him as Their tool. Do you honestly expect him to be able to navigate the storm we're preparing for him?"