"No, of course not." Varnaythus munched on his apple, then chuckled suddenly. "And you know what? It does make me feel better."
Dahlaha laughed yet again and raised her glass in mock salute. He waved the half-eaten apple at her in response, then applied himself to finishing it off.
"Do you really think that having Tellian's daughter injected into the situation at Kalatha is going to work to our advantage?" his hostess asked after a moment, her tone much more serious, and Varnaythus snorted.
"It's hard to say." he took a last bite of apple, tossed the gnawed core back onto his plate, and then stretched. "With another, more typical Sothōii noble, I'd be more prepared to hazard a prediction. But Tellian is scarcely typical-I suspect that that's the main reason They want him dead, or at least discredited and set at odds with the Crown." He shrugged. "The man loves his wife and his daughter, and I frankly think it's unlikely he'll cut himself off from the girl, whatever she's done. That's the real reason I opposed killing her. If we can get him tangled up in our little web-" Dahlaha's eyes flashed at his choice of noun, as he'd known they would "- it would do far more to destabilize the kingdom as a whole than anything we might achieve locally here in Lorham."
"Don't underestimate what we're doing here, Varnaythus." Dahlaha's husky voice had turned cold and hard, and Varnaythus glanced at her. "My Lady doesn't waste Her efforts on minor projects," she continued. "The web She's weaving here will stretch out to every corner of the Wind Plain. Yes, drawing Tellian into Her toils would make things easier. But in the end, She will achieve her goals even without him."
"And if a champion of Tomanâk interferes?" Varnaythus asked levelly. There was an odd, greenish flicker at the backs of Dahlaha's eyes, and he felt his pulse quicken with a sudden tingle of something much too much like fear for his taste. But he made himself look into those eyes steadily, and reminded himself that he, too, had his patron.
"Tomanâk!" Dahlaha hissed the hated name. Her long, graceful fingers with their crimson-painted nails flexed like claws, or pincers, and she spat on the floor. "That for your precious champion!" she snarled.
She really didn't look at all beautiful in that moment, Varnaythus reflected.
"That's all very well," he said in a brisk, businesslike voice, "but your Lady is the one who's going to have to deal with this Kaeritha if she gets that far putting things together."
"She won't," his hostess said shortly.
"Dahlaha," he said patiently, "that's exactly the sort of thinking that leads to . . . unfortunate errors. I remind you of what happened to Tharnatus when this same champion and Bahzell came calling in Navahk."
"Tharnatus was a fool, and Sharnā is a coward," she shot back, and her ripe mouth twisted with contempt. "I can't believe your Lady let Herself be roped into that entire mess. One thing Carnadosa has always been is smart, so what was She thinking of to throw good money after bad that way?"
"The Lady of the Wand is smart," Varnaythus agreed. "In this case, though, She had no choice. The decision came from Phrobus Himself."
Dahlaha looked up from her wineglass, her expression suddenly taut. Then she shrugged.
"I still don't understand why Phrobus allowed himself to be convinced to let Sharnā deal with the hradani in the first place. Granted, even He should have been able to handle a horde of ignorant barbarians, but His father must have known He'd think small, as usual. And then He chose Tharnatus as His chief priest. Tharnatus!" She barked a vicious laugh. "He always was as stupid as Triahm, and he certainly proved it in Navahk! First he overestimated his own cleverness and power, and then Sharnā was too terrified of Tomanâk to face him openly when Tharnatus needed Him most. But that won't happen here. My Lady fears no one and nothing! When we require Her aid, She' ll provide it, and spit in Tomanâk's face, if She must."
Varnaythus gazed at her for several seconds, and his stomach muscles tightened at what he saw in her expression. It was more than possible that she was reading too much into her deity's intentions. But it was also possible that she wasn't. Dahlaha's Lady was noted for neither her sense of restraint nor her willingness to accept any limitations upon her power. Or, for that matter, for what most mortals would have called her sanity. The wizard-priest remembered his conversation with Jerghar, and he felt sweat trying to pop out along his hairline.
"I trust it won't be necessary for it to come to that," he said after a moment, choosing his words and controlling his tone rather more carefully than he usually did in conversation with Dahlaha.
"I doubt very much that it will."
She, too, seemed to have stepped back a pace from the intensity of the moment before. She lifted her wineglass and sipped delicately, then set it gently on the table.
"All of the pieces are in place," she said. "When They decided to place this portion of the plan in Her care, They knew what They were doing." Her smile was a thing of ice and old, dried bone. "We've placed Her agents-including the ones who don't even realize they're working for Her-in all of the critical places."
"Including Trisu's household?" Varnaythus asked in a neutral tone, and she grimaced.
"No," she admitted. "Not there." She shrugged irritably. "there's something about Trisu that bothers me. When I look at him, I don't see what I see in other men's eyes."
She picked up the wineglass once more, but this time only to glower down into its depths, not to drink from it, and Varnaythus watched her expression from behind masklike eyes. It was obvious that she resented Trisu's apparent immunity to the allure of her exquisitely maintained beauty and raw sexuality, but there was more to it than simple resentment. There was also uncertainty, almost a trace of fear, and he cocked his head.
"What do you see in his eyes?" he asked finally, and she shrugged again, this time angrily.
"Suspicion," she hissed, like a cat passing a fishbone, and glowered at her fellow conspirator. The green flicker was back in her eyes, although fainter than before, and he could almost physically taste her anger-at him, this time-for forcing her to admit that. But he could stand more than Dahlaha's anger if that was the price of making sure he didn't disappoint Them.
"Suspicion of what?" he asked, quietly, but in a tone whose firmness reminded her that he was her superior-for now, at least-and warned her that he expected an answer.
"I don't know," she admitted, then tossed her head angrily. "I know he knows I'm Triahm's mistress, and he's too straitlaced to care for that. Besides, he likes Triahm's wife, and I'm sure he resents his cousin's infidelity because of that, as well. But there's something else in there, too, and I'm not sure exactly what it is."
She obviously hated confessing that much, but she made herself meet Varnaythus' eyes steadily, and it seemed to him that she was being honest about her concerns. Or, at least, as honest as it was possible for her to be.
"Well, he obviously doesn't know Who you serve," the wizard-priest observed. "If he did, you'd be dead-or at least fled, with his troops in hot pursuit, which would be almost as bad from Their viewpoint. I wonder . . ."
His voice trailed off, and he gazed into the distance at something only he could see, his fingers drumming absently on his thigh while he thought. Dahlaha stood it in silence for as long as she could, then cleared her throat noisily. His eyes popped back into focus and swiveled to her.
"You wonder what?" she demanded.