Ridge watched her walk across the threshold, his golden eyes filled with cool appraisal. She might be a farm girl, but she held herself with the dignity and grace of a Great House lady. He was a bastard, an unclaimed son of a Great House that chose to ignore his existence. But it occurred to Ridge as he followed Kalena through the door into the large hall that a man like himself, who was intent on founding his own House, could do worse than ally himself with a farm girl who knew how to walk like a lady.
There would be plenty of time on the journey to the Heights of Variance to decide if Kalena might turn out to be the woman who was destined to fit into the long-range future plans he had for himself.
The man they called the Fire Whip discovered he was looking forward to the journey.
Two
By the stones, man,” Quintel said, “at least admit a portion of the truth. I thought I did a fairly good job playing matchmaker. You would have done a lot worse on your own and you know it.”
Ridge glanced at him from the other side of the room, aware of the faint humor edging his employer’s slight smile. Quintel lounged in the round-backed chair, his black Risha cloth shirt and black trousers a sharp contrast to the snowy white cushions.
It was no accident that Quintel had dressed in black this evening and proceeded to entertain his guests in the Snow Room. The man had an eye for contrasts and opposites. He indulged his appreciation of them at every opportunity.
Quintel came naturally by his personal tastes. His hair was an unusual shade of silver gray that began at a peak above his high, intelligent forehead and was brushed straight back. The silvery shade was a strong counterpoint to the near blackness of his eyes which was, in turn, a contrast to the fairness of his skin. When he dressed in black, as he frequently did, he dominated any gathering. He most certainly dominated the white chamber in which he now sat.
Of course, Ridge decided objectively, even without such adornments, Quintel of the House of the Gliding Fallon would dominate any crowd. The wealthy descendant of an old, established Great House, he wore his inherited power and authority with unconscious masculine grace. He could be utterly charming, as he had been earlier that evening in Kalena’s presence, or he could be quite ruthless, especially in business. Ridge knew better than most just how ruthless his employer could be.
According to town gossip, Quintel was no longer satisfied with operating some of the most lucrative trade routes in the Northern Continent. Some said he had his eye on a seat in the new Hall of Balance, the fledgling legislative assembly that represented the scattered towns and communities of the continent. The new central governing body was still feeling its way and the local communities were not about to surrender too many of their precious rights to it, but there was no doubt that the town of Concinnity, home of the Hall of Balance, was becoming a center of power. One of the more important prerogatives the Hall of Balance had recently assumed was the right to recognize and legitimize newly established Great Houses.
Physically, Quintel resembled the symbol of his proud House. His features were sharply aquiline, not unlike the bird of prey called a fallon. His body was lean and oddly slender. Ridge was aware that women often found Quintel fascinating, although everyone within his small circle of trusted employees knew he was not interested in females. He wasn’t interested in men, either. In the years Ridge had worked for Quintel he had never known the House lord to demonstrate any real sensuality. Quintel’s passions were reserved for his studies.
Quintel was the most learned man Ridge had ever met. His intellectual curiosity was wide ranging. He had developed a private library that was the envy of the University of the Spectrum and had, on several occasions, entertained masters who taught various subjects at the university. Such invitations were always eagerly accepted.
Quintel’s personal interests might be centered on intellectual matters, but he also had a business empire to run. The company of other learned men might interest him, but he had a practical need for a man who could be trusted to handle the dirty side of things. Operating trade routes demanded a certain amount of muscle. Ridge could not even remember when people had begun calling him Quintel’s Fire Whip.
Ridge walked across the room to a carved stone table and helped himself to another glass of warm red ale he was sharing with his employer. “All right, so you have hitherto unsuspected talents in the field of matchmaking. She isn’t what I expected when you told me about her two days ago.”
“You thought I would arrange for one of the professional trade wives to accompany you to the mountains?”
“It seemed logical.”
Quintel shook his silvered head. “No, Ridge. Not logical at all. I want nothing to go wrong on this investigative journey of yours, and that includes the actual trade for the Sand. Your main task is to find out what has kept the last three trade masters and their parties from getting into the Healers’ valley, but I also want a fresh supply of Sand. For that you need a woman, and my instincts tell me that this time you will need a woman with some share of the Healing Talent, someone the Healers are likely to accept. Even before the trade masters and their caravans began returning empty-handed, the High Healers of Variance were becoming increasingly difficult. Women, no matter how talented, have a way of making unnecessary difficulties.” Quintel grimaced wryly. “The Healers had begun cutting back on the routine orders from their various medicinal concoctions and they were refusing to trade the usual amounts of Sand. The trade masters in charge told me it was because the Healers weren’t getting along with the trade wives who had been contracted for the journeys. They claimed they didn’t find them acceptable.” Quintel’s fine mouth curved downward in another disgusted grimace. “The Healers of Variance said the wives in question were neither real wives nor women with any share of the Healing Talent. They didn’t want to deal with them. Then I started getting reports of some sort of barrier across the pass. After that no one who set out for the Heights of Variance was able to get through.”
“Even if I am successful, I won’t be able to bring back much Sand, let alone any of the Healers’ potions. I’ll only have room for what I and the woman can carry in our saddlebags. I can’t take any pack creets with me, Quintel. It would slow me down too much.”
Quintel nodded, taking a sip of his ale from the elegantly chased goblet he was holding in one hand. “I only need a single shipment, just enough to prove that I can still supply the damn stuff. When you return with the problems resolved, I will dispatch a major trade party.”
Ridge walked to the window to gaze out into the garden. As did most private homes in Crosspurposes, Quintel’s large house was focused inward around its many exotic gardens. On the street side, windows were few and narrow, designed to keep out the dust and noise of the town while allowing some cross ventilation. But inside, all rooms opened onto lush greenery and flower scented air. There was a red sheen of light on the exquisitely designed garden outside the Snow Room’s window tonight. Symmetra, the red moon of Zantalia, was at full strength. Ridge studied the beautiful scene with absent interest as he thought about Quintel’s words.
“Has someone questioned your ability to bring back Sand?” Ridge asked softly.
Quintel hesitated and then admitted, “The subject arose in the last meeting of the Town Council. I assured the members that the problems were temporary and that normal trade levels would resume soon.”
“They would not dare take the route from you and give it to another.” Ridge spoke with absolute certainty.
“No one is above the power of the council, Ridge. The Sand is considered a crucial trade item here in Crosspurposes. It’s one of the things that gives the town its wealth and a lot of its power. If the town is threatened with a loss of that route because the trade baron in charge can’t control it, then the council will act to preserve the route. We both know that.”
Ridge turned away from the window. “You’ll have your Sand when I return,” he promised evenly.
Quintel smiled. “I know.” There w
as a slight pause. “I should mention one other detail. While the caravans have returned empty-handed, my last investigator did not return at all.”
“Who did you send?”
“Trantel.”
Ridge considered that. “He’s good.”
“I have reason to believe he’s dead.”
Ridge frowned. “The Healers might become stubborn or difficult but they would never kill. Healers can’t kill. Everyone knows that.”
Quintel shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going on, Fire Whip. That’s why I’m sending you to find out.”
The two men silently regarded each other across the width of the white room. They had no need to discuss the mission further. Ridge had been given his assignment; he would complete it. Both accepted that as a fact.
“About the woman,” Quintel finally said slowly.
“What about her? You picked her, I assume you knew what you were doing, even if you are new at the matchmaking business,” Ridge said casually.
Quintel waved aside the mocking comment. “She’s our best bet as far as dealing with the Healers of Variance. True, she’s not a professional Healer herself, but her aunt is, and presumably Talent is in the family’s female line. It usually is. Kalena might not have enough of the Talent to enter training as a Healer, but even a touch of it would increase our chances of getting the High Healers in the mountains to deal with her.”
“No chance of getting a proven Healer?”
“Unfortunately, no. Healers are proud. Most would consider themselves far above the level of a trade wife. By the Stones, the most talented and dedicated among them become High Healers, move to the Heights of Variance and shun the company of men altogether.” Quintel’s disparaging tone made it clear that he, in common with other men, failed to comprehend such stubborn independence. “Regular Healers and women with a touch of the Talent are almost always married. They are considered excellent wife material. A Healer adds prestige to any House, large or small. No true Healer need settle for the role of trade wife. And what man would allow his woman to travel as a trade wife, even for the sake of a share of the Sand?”
Ridge’s mouth curved faintly. “By the Dark end of the Spectrum, I certainly wouldn’t.”
“No,” Quintel agreed with a knowing look, “you least of all. You have as much pride as any Great House lord, don’t you?”
“Even though I’m only a bastard?” Ridge concluded bitterly. “Why not say it, Quintel? We both know it’s true.”
“Your birth status will only be a temporary handicap for you, Ridge. I am as certain of that as I am of Symmetra’s full status each month,” Quintel said evenly. “The time will come when you will found your own House and it will be a Great one. I may have picked you up off the streets of Countervail and taught you your manners, but the fires of the man you are today have always burned within you. They will take you far.”
“Soon,” Ridge said almost to himself. “Very soon.”
“Possibly at the end of this venture,” Quintel drawled gently. “If you prove as good at seducing a woman as you are at handling a sintar.”
Ridge’s head came around with a swift, inquiring movement. “What are you talking about?”
“I am talking about giving you the full profits of your journey.” Quintel took another swallow of ale while he waited for his words to sink in. “Less the thirty percent that goes to the woman and her aunt, naturally. In addition, I intend to turn a percentage of the route itself over to you. I was thinking of somewhere around twenty percent. In exchange, you will operate that route for me in the future.”
Ridge waited tensely. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do.” Quintel leaned forward, his dark eyes suddenly intent. “It is vital to me that the trade route be reopened and that a certain amount of Sand be brought back to prove that I can still manage the route. But beyond that, I am not interested in a profit on this venture. Whatever the Sand brings when you return to Crosspurposes is yours. As for the future arrangement, I will admit that I’m growing tired of devoting so much of my time and attention to managing the trade routes I own. I wish to turn some of the burden over to others without losing complete control of the routes. Who else can I trust as much as I trust you, Fire Whip? Think of it, Ridge. The more Sand you bring back, the richer you will be. If you bring back a sufficient quantity and deal it shrewdly, you might make enough to begin establishing your House. Add to that financial basis a slice of all future income from the Sand route and you have what I hope will be a very attractive incentive. Money is the root from which power springs. It takes both money and power to found a Great House.”
Ridge felt the adrenaline flood his bloodstream as if he were facing an armed attacker. But instead of deadly anger, he felt a fierce elation. Only after taking a deep, slow breath could he say, “You are very generous, Quintel.”
“No. I am practical. You have served me long and well, Ridge. I owe you a great deal. Sooner or later you will found your House. Nothing short of death would stop you. I understand that the goal is the most important thing in your life. Very well. I can repay the years of service and loyalty you have given me with the chance to make your fortune in one single venture.”
Ridge met the other man’s gaze. “I don’t know what to say.”
Quintel smiled. “Say nothing to me. But you might spend a little time talking to Kalena. Actually, it’s going to take more than a little conversation, I’m afraid. You will need her willing cooperation on this trip, Ridge.”
Ridge narrowed his gaze. “She’s willing enough. Her share of the profits are quite an incentive.”
“That’s not what I mean. You’re going to have to seduce her, Trade Master. Quite thoroughly. You’re going to have to make a real wife out of her. Ridge, when the last two trade masters who got through to the Healers’ valley returned, they said the High Healers had begun complaining because the trade women weren’t ‘true’ wives.”
“Surely by that point in the journey the trade masters were sleeping with the women they had brought along,” Ridge observed wryly. “There was a marriage document to make it all legal. What more was needed?”
“The Healers of the valley understood this, but they still refused to accept the relationships.”
“Why not?”
“For some reason known only to them, they did not consider the marriages valid, even though they accepted such marriages in the past. They had no adequate explanation, but as near as the trade masters could tell, it had something to do with a lack of bonding between the wives and the traders. The existence of a sexual relationship and a piece of paper declaring the marriages legal are no longer enough for the Healers of Variance, it seems. They want more.”
“How much more is there?” Ridge asked blankly.
Quintel sighed. “I’m not sure. A link, perhaps. An emotional bond between the man and the woman involved. Something understood by the woman, at least, to be more than a business arrangement. You know how women are,” he added. “So emotional. Apparently, previous trade wives have been quite open with the High Healers concerning the temporary nature of the trade marriage. It would seem the Healers have begun to object. Who can fully comprehend the Healers of Variance or women in general? The impression I received was that they wished to deal with a woman who was not in the marriage strictly as a business partner. I think, Ridge, that by the time you reach the mountains, you had better have your trade wife bound to you with more than just a formal marriage contract. That, Trade Master, is where your talents in the art of seduction will be put to the test.”
Ridge stared at him. “I still don’t understand.”
“All I’m saying, Ridge, is that you’d better try wooing the lady. By the time you reach the Heights of Variance, make certain she is committed to you and to the relationship. The Healers will be able to tell, and if they don’t find her truly married on an emotional level, they won’t deal, even if you find a way past this barrier they have erected across the pass.”
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Ridge swore softly. “By the Stones, you’re determined to make this venture as difficult as possible, aren’t you?”
“It’s not me who’s making life difficult for you. Blame those illogical, female Healers.”
“I’m supposed to make certain Kalena feels committed to me by the time we reach the mountains even though the relationship ends when we return to Crosspurposes?”
Quintel nodded. “Yes. Even though it will end then. The process by which a woman is convinced to trust her emotions rather than her intellect is called seduction. You’d better be prepared to practice that particular art.”
Ridge laughed mirthlessly. “You may have picked the wrong man for this job, Quintel. I might be reasonably good at cutting throats for you, but seducing a woman takes real skill. I’ve never been especially good at it.”
“I have great confidence in you, Fire Whip. Especially with the incentive I have provided you.”
Ridge thought about the chance at the future he had always dreamed of that Quintel was offering him. “It should prove to be an interesting journey.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Quintel agreed.
Ridge contemplated the task that lay before him; then he smiled faintly as a stray thought crossed his mind. “She showed excellent manners at dinner this evening, didn’t she?” He was aware of an odd sense of pride in the fact. “You’d never know she was raised on an Interlock farm.”
“Whatever her heritage, there are Healers in her family. They are a cut above the average farm House woman and they know it. Kalena has undoubtedly been given a fairly decent education and some training in manners and deportment. She did, indeed, behave herself very well this evening. A most charming guest.”
If one overlooked the fact that she seemed particularly fascinated with Quintel, Ridge thought, remembering the times he had caught Kalena covertly studying her host as they dined. Kalena’s curiosity about Quintel had annoyed Ridge on some level. He would have to explain to her that even if Quintel did have a weakness for women, which he did not, he was not an option for Kalena. She was contracted to marry Ridge, and he would see to it that she abided by the terms of that contract in thought as well as deed. Nothing was going to stop him from returning from the Heights of Variance with a shipment of Sand. Ridge got to his feet with a sudden sense of decisiveness. No better time than the present to begin making certain of Kalena’s sense of commitment. He smiled rather grimly at his lord.