David Farland - Brotherhood of the Wolf

Lord Ingris chuckled as if rejecting an unearned compliment: “I doubt it. If Raj Ahten dies, it will be my gold and the Inkarrans’ greed that killed him, not the curse of some Earth Warden.”

From behind Gaborn’s chair, Iome spoke up. “And where did your gold come from,” she asked, “if not from the Earth?”

In the silence that followed, Borenson had to wonder was it really possible for a few assassins to strike so great a blow.

He doubted it. Raj Ahten had far too many Dedicates strewn across too vast a kingdom, and they were well guarded. Though Raj Ahten might be wounded, Borenson knew that he could not easily be killed.

Raj Ahten would have to lose certain key endowments first. If he lost stamina, for example, he might retain his strength yet still fall to a particularly nasty blow. Or if he lost metabolism, he might slow enough so that even the most mundane warrior could slice off his head

Under the right circumstances, a few assassins could have a devastating impact on the Wolf Lord.

Gaborn shook his head and said, “In good conscience, I cannot wish any man’s demise. I certainly cannot condone the killing of innocent men, women, and children whose only crime is that they allowed themselves to grant an endowment to Raj Ahten. I will stand up to him if I must, but for now, I wish only to stop him—or, better yet, turn him if I can.”

“Damn your fool pardon,” King Orwynne grumbled, half rising from his chair; “but I knew you would say that!”

“You object to our lord’s wisdom?” Jureem asked.

King Orwynne’s face hardened. “Forgive me, Your Lordship,” he said, struggling to control his wrath. “You cannot risk allowing Raj Ahten to live. It would be more than imprudent, it would be foolish.”

“I do not make this choice because it is cunning,” Gaborn said. “I make it because I feel that it is the right thing to do.

“You are a young man, full of noble-sounding ideals, and you have the Earth Powers to aid you,” Lord Ingris said to Gaborn. “You may hope to turn Raj Ahten but how, may I ask, do you propose to do it?”

“I captured forty thousand forcibles at Longmot,” Gaborn said evenly.

King Orwynne, Lord Ingris, and Erin Connal all started in surprise.

“I’ve already used five thousand to renew Heredon’s army and rebuild its cavalry,” Gaborn continued. “The remaining forcibles are enough to grant endowments for a small army—or enough to create a single lord as great as Raj Ahten.

“Last week, after the battle of Longmot, I’d thought I would do just that, become a lord equal to Raj Ahten, and then try to best him. Like you, I want to fight.

“But I am loath to call even Raj Ahten my enemy, though he has attacked my people. I am going to propose a truce.”

King Orwynne was flabbergasted. “He has carried his battle to us,” he said, speaking too loudly. “We can’t just walk away from him.”

“He’s right,” Jureem said. “My old master will not grant you a truce—unless you yourself were to give him an endowment. He will want your wit or your brawn, something to cripple you so that you can never rise against him.”

“Perhaps,” Gaborn said. “But I will propose a truce just the same. I will send a messenger bearing these words: ‘Though I hate my own cousin, the enemy of my cousin is my enemy.’ By the time that message reaches him, he will have heard of the fall of Keep Haberd, and perhaps even of his own troubles in Kartish. I will remind him of the threat of reavers, and inform him that I am now his cousin through marriage. To seal the peace, instead of my endowment, I will offer him twenty thousand forcibles. He knows that without them, I will be crippled enough. But I’ll give the forcibles to him only on the condition that he agree to leave Rofehavan.”

Borenson licked his lips. Raj Ahten was not likely to listen to reason, but at the same time, he could hardly turn away from twenty thousand forcibles.

“Other men have borne such appeals,” Jureem warned. “He will not buy what he believes he can take by force. I suspect that he will not listen. He might even kill your messenger.”

“Perhaps,” Gaborn said. “But what if the petition were borne by one of his own people, one whom he loved and could not easily dismiss?” Gaborn leaned to his right, gazing hard at Jureem. “Jureem, you told me a few days ago that Raj Ahten has hundreds of wives secreted at the Palace of Concubines in Obran. You say that no man is allowed to see them, upon penalty of death. Which is his favorite wife? Would she hear my plea? Would she bear my petition?”

“Saffira is her name, milord,” Jureem said, stroking his goatee. “The daughter of Emir Owatt, of Tuulistan. She is the prize of his harem.”

“I know her father by reputation. The Emir is a good man,” Gaborn said. “Surely his daughter shares some of his goodness and strength.”

“Perhaps,” Jureem said. “But I have never seen her. Once a wife enters the palace, she does not come out.”

“Raj Ahten is a vain man,” Iome said. “I can think of only one reason why he would hide the women of his harem away from his own people. How many endowments of glamour has he lavished upon his favorite wife?”

Jureem considered. “You guess wisely, milady. It is his custom to grant an endowment of glamour to his wife each time he lies with her, so that on his next visit she will be even more beautiful than he remembers. Saffira has been his favorite for five years. She must have more than three hundred endowments by now.”

Borenson sat back in astonishment. A woman with a dozen endowments of glamour left men dizzy with desire. He could not imagine how a woman with hundreds of such endowments might affect him. Perhaps Gaborn’s plot could work.

But Borenson still felt uneasy. “I can’t believe that no one has considered using her as a weapon.”

“I was my lord’s most trusted servant,” Jureem said. “It was my duty to provide baubles and endowments for the concubines. Aside from two or three others, no man has been allowed to know the extent of the harem.”

Gaborn’s gaze shifted to each of the others. “What do you say? I propose to send a message to Saffira, and let her carry it to Raj Ahten.”

“It could work,” Jureem said doubtfully. “But I hesitate to believe that Raj Ahten would take her counsel. She is, after all, only his wife.”

Borenson wondered. In many parts of Indhopal, it was considered unmanly to listen to the counsel of a woman.

“It could work,” Iome said more hopefully. “Binnesman suggested that Raj Ahten has gone mad simply because he has been listening to his own Voice. She might persuade him.

“And what if I were to give her another thousand endowments of glamour and Voice,” Gaborn asked, “as a token of my goodwill, so that even Raj Ahten could not resist her?”

“There are facilitators at Obran who are skilled at giving such endowments,” Jureem admitted.

“And we have the forcibles to do it with,” Chancellor Rodderman cut in. “But it might take a day or two to find women who would serve as Dedicates.”

“I’d offer my glamour,” Myrrima said.

She glanced nervously toward Borenson, as if afraid of his reaction. She’d used that beauty to try to lure him into marriage. She had to know that it was unfair to offer to give it away now. Yet Borenson admired her all the more for making the offer.

“There are already women at Obran,” Jureem said. “Raj Ahten has many concubines, all of whom have been endowed with glamour or Voice. Some of them have suffered greatly because of this long war. They too hope for peace, and I suspect that some of them, perhaps many of them, would act as vectors...”

“You would be taking a great risk,” King Orwynne said. “We don’t know this woman-nor do we know how such power might affect her. What if she too turns against you?”