“Well, seeing as how no one was supposed to know—officially—as how I was even here in the first place, I’m thinking you didn’t do so very poorly as all that. Still,” Bahzell glanced around in turn, “I’ll allow as this isn’t the very most private place in all the world.”
“There’s a park another two blocks down this street,” Dragonaxe said. “Earlier in the day it’s usually fairly crowded—it’s one of the city’s larger parks, and there’s room to hack a horse or even take a turn in a carriage, if you’re truly fashionable. Most of the city exquisites should have taken themselves off for the day by now, though.”
Walsharno observed in the back of Bahzell’s brain. Bahzell looked up at him with something very like a glower, and the courser tossed his head. he said in a very passable imitation of Brandark’s voice.
“A park sounds just fine, Master Brayahs,” Bahzell said. “Another two blocks, you were saying?”
* * *
Bahzell could see why the park to which Daggeraxe guided them might be popular. It was quite old, surrounded by gray stone walls mottled with lichen, with paths of carefully raked gravel threading their way under ancient trees just starting to come into full leaf. Broader paths—more like promenades than roads—wound through the park’s gently rolling spaciousness, and a large fountain at its heart splashed around an inevitable equestrian statue. Groundskeepers were at work as the three of them—and Walsharno—passed through the open gate in the stone wall. They looked up, and their eyes widened as they saw the hradani. Most of them stiffened automatically, as well, but Bahzell and Brandark had grown accustomed to that response, and the Horse Stealer watched at least some of them relax as they took in the sword and mace on his surcoat, added to them to Walsharno, and realized who he had to be.
Not, he noted sourly, that most of them relaxed very noticeably.
Daggeraxe led them in a comfortable, ambling stroll along one of the main promenades with Walsharno walking at Bahzell’s shoulder.
“Most of Zarantha’s message isn’t really all that confidential, Milord,” the mage said. “Private, but not something that needs to be kept secret from those who might not have your best interests at heart, shall we say.”
Bahzell cocked his ears politely, and Daggeraxe chuckled a bit sourly.
“As a mage—especially a Crown mage—I’m officially neutral in Baron Tellian’s spat with Baron Cassan and Baron Yeraghor, Milord. And as a Daggeraxe and a loyal supporter of the North Riding’s interests, as well, of course. For that matter, to be completely honest, I think my cousin may be showing the better part of wisdom to steer clear of that entire dogfight. If I were to pick a side, though, I think I’d probably favor Tellian, on the theory that you can tell more about a man from the enemies he makes than from the company he keeps. I think the quality of Tellian’s enemies speaks well of him. But however neutral I may be where the Kingdom’s internal politics are concerned, Zarantha is a friend and you’re her brother as far as Clan Jâshân and Clan Hûrâka are concerned.”
“That’s after being more than good enough for me, Master Brayahs,” Bahzell said.
“I’m glad to hear that. And while we’re being honest with each other, I suppose I should admit that it’s probably just as well I didn’t catch you at Sir Jerhas’ after all.” The mage grimaced. “I doubt very much that any of Baron Tellian’s enemies would believe for a moment that I’m only passing on a friend’s message like any other mage might do. The last thing my cousin needs is to have my actions suggest he’s choosing a side after all.”
Daggeraxe arched an eyebrow, and Bahzell nodded.
“I can be seeing that.”
“Well,” Daggeraxe said more briskly, “about that message. First, she asked me to tell you Tothas is doing well and that he’s about to become a father for the second time. According to the healer, it will be a girl this time.”
“Will it now?” Bahzell grinned broadly. “It’s good money I’d give to see him sitting with a babe on his knee! Especially a girl child. She’ll have his heart in one grubby little fist before she’s as much as walking!”
“Ha!” Brandark shook his head. “What makes you think she’ll wait that long? She’ll have him under her thumb before she’s even born!”
“Likely you’ve the right of that,” Bahzell agreed, still smiling, and looked back at Daggeraxe. “It’s grateful I’ll be if you’d be good enough to be telling Zarantha as how Brandark and I are both wishing Tothas and Tarenka well. Aye, and I’ll be thinking on a proper birth gift.”
“You?” Brandark hooted a laugh. “More like your sister Marglyth, you mean. Or maybe even your mother!”
Bahzell ignored him, and Daggeraxe’s lips twitched as he resolutely did the same.
“In addition,” the mage continued, “Zarantha says to tell you her academy is sufficiently well established now that Tothas is confident it can provide for its security out of its own resources. She asked me to tell you she can never thank you or the Order of Tomanāk enough for having protected them until that was true and that she’s informed Sir Yorhus of the same thing. I have the impression, however, that Sir Yorhus—he’s the commander of the Order’s detachment at the academy, is he?” Bahzell nodded and Daggeraxe shrugged. “As I say, I have the impression Sir Yorhus is rather less confident they can do without his presence.”
“You’re probably right,” Brandark said. “On the other hand, Sir Yorhus would probably feel that way if they had the entire Spearman army camped around the academy!”
“Aye, you’ve a point there,” Bahzell agreed with a wry smile. “It’s an amazing amount of good Tothas has done with him, but he’s still Sir Yorhus, when all’s said.” He glanced at Daggeraxe. “Sir Yorhus is a good man, Master Brayahs, but he’s...a way about him. A man of enthusiasms, as you might say.”
“A man who won’t pull his detachment out of Jâshân without a direct order from Sir Terrian countersigned by all three of the commandery’s senior officers, you mean!” Brandark snorted.
“Now he’s not so bad as all that these days,” Bahzell replied repressively. “I’ll just be sending him a letter of my own and see how things go from there.”
“Right. You’d better go ahead and send a letter to Terrian in Axe Hallow while you’re at it. At least you can save a little time that way.”
“I’ll ask you to be ignoring him, Master Brayahs,” Bahzell said. “It’s little he can help it, being born a Bloody Sword and all. You were saying about the rest of Zarantha’s message?”
“Well, this is where we start getting into the bits you’d probably not want to become public knowledge.”
Daggeraxe glanced around casually. None of the groundskeepers were close enough to overhear anything that might be said, and the mage gestured for them to stop at a stone bench under one of the trees.
“She wanted me to tell you,” he continued, once he’d seated himself on the bench, “that the Purple Lords have figured out what your father and Baron Tellian have in mind.”
He paused, one eyebrow raised, and Bahzell flicked his ears.
“Aye, we’ve other reports that say the same,” he acknowledged. “Not that we’ve any clear idea just yet how it might be as they’re inclined to react.”
“I think you may have one now, Milord.” Daggeraxe’s tone was much grimmer than it had been. “And truth to tell, the fact that the Purple Lords are among Tellian’s enemies is one of the things that speaks most loudly in his favor, as far as I’m concerned. I spent three months in Bortalik just after I’d completed my training. It seemed like three years, and not just because the Purple Lords are so full of themselves, either. I’m sure Zarantha’s told you about her suspicions where the Purple Lords are concerned?”
He looked a question at Bahzell, and the hradani nodded.
“I assumed she must have
, given that you and Brandark are the only reason she managed to get home alive despite the Purple Lords.”
“As to that, Wencit did have more than a mite to do with it,” Bahzell said mildly. “And we’d never any actual proof as how the Purple Lords were behind it their very own selves.”
“Trust me, Milord,” Daggeraxe said even more grimly. “Precognition is one of my minor talents, too. In fact, my talent’s at least a bit stronger than Zarantha’s in that regard. I know how it works, so I would have been inclined to trust her foresight about the Purple Lords and the mysterious death of every Spearman mage before she came along under any circumstances. But one of my other talents is what we call aura reading.”
“Aura reading?” Brandark repeated, ears cocking intently. “Of living creatures or objects?”
“I see you’ve been doing some research, Lord Brandark,” Daggeraxe said. “But the answer to your question is neither. Oh, I have some sensitivity to the auras of people—including four-footed ones, Milord Courser,” he added, nodding courteously to Walsharno. “But mostly I read the auras of places. I’m what we call in the academies a ‘sniffer.’ It’s a talent which is often useful for someone investigating a crime, for example, because a powerful sniffer can actually read the motives and emotions of people who have passed through a given place. It’s not infallible, and our readings are always subject to a degree of interpretation. For that matter, if there’s been a lot of traffic through the spot, the overlays of so many auras can make it impossible for us to be very specific at all, so it’s not something we can present in court before a judge or jury, but it’s frequently helpful in directing the investigator’s attention towards likely motives and suspects.”
“I can see where such as that would be an uncomfortable thing for someone as found himself stuck amongst the Purple Lords,” Bahzell rumbled.
“Oh, it was, but not for the reasons you’re thinking, perhaps. You see, like my precognition, it’s a minor talent for me, not a strongly refined one. But it’s not emotions and motives I sense when I read a place’s aura, Milord; it’s sorcery. I’m a wizard-sniffer, and the stink of wizardry is heavy in Bortalik.”
Bahzell’s face stiffened and his ears flattened. He and Brandark looked at one another for a moment, then back at Daggeraxe.
“It’s certain of that you are?” the Horse Stealer asked.
“That there’s wizardry in Bortalik? Oh, yes, Milord! Not that I could get any of the city officials to take my word for it. After all, there are no Purple Lord magi, are there? And at that time, there were no Spearman magi, either. So I could scarcely expect them to take the word of a visiting Sothōii for it, now could I? But that’s another reason I’m confident Zarantha’s right about who’s been helping Spearman magi die before they ever came into their abilities.”
“You’re convinced she’s right that those deaths were natural? They didn’t simply fail to survive their ‘mage crisis’?”
“Lord Brandark, the severity of mage crisis is directly proportional to the power of the mage’s talents. The more powerful the talent, the more of them the mage might possess, the more severe the crisis. But the truth is that the majority of magi have only one or two talents, and many of them are far from powerful. In fact, there are far more ‘magi’ than most people ever suspect running about, most of them with talents too weak to train effectively, and many of them never even realize they’re talented at all. For someone like that, ‘mage crisis’ might seem no worse than a particularly protracted case of the flu, with the sort of fever dreams you might expect to experience with a high fever.” Daggeraxe shook his head. “No, Milord. Zarantha was absolutely right about that. There should have been at least a handful of magi who survived their crises on their own but whose talents were still powerful enough to be recognized after the fact. The only explanation for why there never were is that someone made certain they didn’t survive. And who would have a greater interest in that than someone dabbling in wizardry?”
“I’m thinking you’ve the right of it,” Bahzell said after a moment. “Mind you, I’m also thinking as how it’s a tempting thing to be finding ‘proof’ someone I’ve so little fondness for is after being blacker than black.”
“That’s the way a champion of Tomanāk is supposed to think, Milord.” Daggeraxe smiled thinly. “I’m only a mage, and I know what I sensed in Bortalik. If I never have to go back to that city again, it will still be a lifetime too soon!”
“What a pity we missed the opportunity to tour the city on our last visit to the Purple Lords, Bahzell,” Brandark said lightly. “You could have slaughtered another couple of dozen landlords before you set it on fire!”
Bahzell snorted and twitched his ears at the Bloody Sword, then looked back at the Daggeraxe.
“I’m thinking we’ve gone a bit astray, Master Brayahs?”
“Yes, we have.” The mage smiled apologetically. “Whatever my experiences in Bortalik may have been all those years ago, Duke Caswal’s factor’s experiences there are much more recent, and the Duke specifically asked Zarantha to pass them on to you. She tells me a written letter is on its way, giving more detail, but her father wanted you to have what you might call the high points of his factor’s account of his last trip downriver to Bortalik as soon as possible. In fact, he’s specifically asked you to pass them on to your father, to Kilthandahknarthas, and to Baron Tellian.”
“Ah?” Bahzell cocked his ears, and Daggeraxe smiled mirthlessly.
“Duke Caswal’s never been particularly popular with the Purple Lords. He’s too independent-minded to suit them at the best of times, and he hasn’t made any secret about his suspicion that ‘parties unknown’ among the Purple Lords—no doubt acting without the knowledge of any Purple Lord official, of course—were directly responsible for what almost happened to Zarantha. What would have happened to her without the two of you and Wencit. That’s put him on the bad side of Bortalik, and they’ve punished him for it often enough, so his factor wasn’t exactly surprised when they decided to call him in and threaten him with retaliation if Duke Caswal didn’t toe the line this time. For that matter, Zarantha says, her father’s of the opinion the Purple Lords are aware of your connection with Jâshân. They don’t pay a great deal of attention to what happens here in the Kingdom, but they appear to have at least determined who the prime movers behind the Derm Canal project are, and you have been a little more visible than most folk up this way. That song about you is quite popular among the crews of Axeman merchant vessels—and especially, for some reason, apparently, among the crews of Marfang Island merchantships. They seem to take a particular pleasure out of singing it where Purple Lord ears are likely to hear it, so it wouldn’t be too hard for even a Purple Lord to put you, Zarantha, and your father together.”
Bahzell managed not to glare at Brandark, but it was hard when the Bloody Sword pursed his lips, looked intently up into the branches of the tree under which they stood, and whistled tunelessly.
Walsharno said.
Aye, well, I’m not so minded as usual to be stopping you this time, and that’s a fact, Bahzell replied.
“So they’ve decided as how if any Spearman’s likely to be encouraging the canal, Caswal would,” he said out loud, and Daggeraxe nodded.
“That’s the Duke’s conclusion, at any rate. And they were quite clear about their intentions, as well. Anyone who dares to trade directly with the Axemen courtesy of your canal will be embargoed in Bortalik. All traffic upriver to that noble will be cut off.”
“A bit of cutting off their own noses to spite their faces in that, don’t you think?” Brandark put in with a grin. “It seems to me that would be most likely to encourage the offender to switch all of his trade to the new route.”
“No doubt it would,” Daggeraxe acknowledged. “There were also some suggestions—less explicit ones, of course—that the new route was likely to find itself seriously beset with piracy and accidents of navigation, howeve
r. Which, as they pointed out to Caswal’s factor, would probably have an unfortunate effect on insurance rates. And, finally, there was a very explicit threat that they’ll seize any Spearman monies invested in Bortalik or any other Purple Lord trading venture if the investors take advantage of the new route. And, of course, at the same time, all debts of any Spearman foolish enough to do such a thing will be immediately called by their creditors.”
Brandark’s grin disappeared, and Daggeraxe nodded.
“Given how much a typical Spearman noble already owes the Purple Lords, that could turn into a very potent threat, indeed. And if I were someone like Duke Caswal, I wouldn’t much care for that business about piracy and ‘accidents,’ either,” Daggeraxe said. “As I say, Prince Bahzell, I understand why my cousin has no desire to mix in Baron Tellian’s quarrel with Baron Cassan, and I have no intention of doing anything which might drag him—or even seem to drag him—into it. But speaking purely for myself and on behalf of a very dear friend and her father, I think it might be wise for you to look very closely at any...connection between Cassan, the River Brigands, and the Purple Lords. And if I were you,” the mage’s expression was grim, “I wouldn’t be so very surprised to find a wizard or two buried somewhere in the mix, as well.”
Chapter Fifteen
Leeana Hanathafressa tried to analyze her feelings as she watched the familiar towers and turrets rising steadily against the horizon from Hill Guard Castle’s perch on the swell of granite overlooking Balthar. Boots moved sweetly and steadily under her, and she watched his mobile ears swiveling, pricking higher with anticipation. There wasn’t much doubt about his mood, she thought fondly, reaching down to rest one hand on his shoulder. This was the land where he’d been foaled and raised, gentled to saddle, lived half his life, and first become her horse, and he felt that homecoming in his bones just as surely as she did.
Yet there was a difference between them, and she felt it looming before her even as Hill Guard drew closer and closer, for Boots could be certain of his welcome. He might have had the ill fortune to belong to Hill Guard’s ne’er-do-well disgrace of a daughter, but that wasn’t his fault. No one would look askance at him, or find themselves feeling awkward and out of balance trying to deal with what that same daughter had become.