David Weber - War Maid's choice

“I’m sorry to disturb you.” The Voice smiled crookedly as if she’d been able to read Shahana’s thoughts. Which, the arm conceded, she might very well have managed to do. Some of the Voices could read thoughts, after all.

“I assume you wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been necessary,” Shahana said.

“No, I wouldn’t,” the Voice agreed. “You have to leave for Kalatha. Now, I’m afraid.”

“Now?” Shahana repeated. “You mean as in right now, in the middle of the night?” Her tone made it clear she wasn’t complaining, merely making certain she’d understood correctly, and the Voice nodded. “May I ask why I’m leaving for Kalatha?”

“You can ask, but I can’t tell you,” the Voice said wryly, and this time the arm’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I would if I knew,” the Voice continued, “but I’m afraid She didn’t tell me, either.” She shrugged. “I got the impression it has something to do with young Leeana and that whole business about her marrying Bahzell, but it was only an impression, Shahana. I wouldn’t depend too heavily on it, if I were you.”

“It’s not like Her to be quite that vague,” Shahana said, and the Voice snorted.

“I’ve been listening to Her for over twelve years now, Shahana, and I’ve discovered She’s never vague. When she seems to’ve been, it usually turns out we simply didn’t know enough about what was going on-then-to realize She was actually being quite specific. Unfortunately, in this case, I don’t have a clue what She has in mind.”

“Well,” Shahana said philosophically, climbing out of bed and reaching for her clothing, “I suppose we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

“Good afternoon, Master Brayahs,” the armsman in the crimson and silver of House Daggeraxe said.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant. I’d like to see Baron Borandas, please.”

The sergeant outside the closed door considered Brayahs Daggeraxe thoughtfully. There’d been a time when Brayahs had been one of Borandas’ most trusted advisers, and the sergeant knew he was still extremely close to the baron and his baroness. But he also knew Brayahs had been chosen as one of the King’s magi, with his oath given to the Crown first and Halthar second, and that imposed certain constraints.

“Your pardon, Master Brayahs,” the sergeant said, “but the Baron is conferring with Sir Dahlnar. Perhaps it would be better if you came back later.”

“I realize he’s meeting with Sir Dahlnar,” Brayahs replied, returning his regard steadily. “In fact, I really need to speak to both of them. Please announce me and ask if they can see me now.”

The sergeant stood thinking for another moment, then made his decision. Baron Borandas valued judgment in his armsmen, and he expected his senior noncoms to use that judgment.

“Wait here, please,” he said, He turned, knocked once on the closed door, and then opened it and stepped through it, leaving Brayahs with the rest of his three-man detachment in the hallway.

He was gone for only a few seconds before the door opened once again.

“The Baron says he’ll be most pleased to see you, Master Brayahs,” the sergeant said with a respectful bow.

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

Brayahs returned the bow and stepped past the armsman into Borandas Daggeraxe’s personal office. It was on the fourth floor of the spire-like tower from which Star Tower Castle took its name, and its opened windows looked out over the castle’s courtyard and the green fields beyond. A cool breeze blew through them, setting the curtains dancing in a flicker of sunlight, and Borandas stood behind his desk, holding out his right hand to his cousin with a broad smile.

“Brayahs!” he clasped forearms with the mage, squeezing firmly. “I’m sorry I missed you yesterday.”

“I know you’ve been busy conferring with Thorandas and Sir Dahlnar,” Brayahs replied as he returned the clasp. “And, to be honest, I had some thinking of my own to do.”

“Oh?” Borandas released his arm and stepped back, waving towards one of the unoccupied chairs in front of his desk. Sir Dahlnar nodded to Brayahs with a friendly smile, offering his own hand, and Brayahs reached out to take it. He clasped Bronzehelm’s forearm firmly, looking deep into the other man’s eyes, and his nostrils flared. He held Sir Dahlnar’s arm for an extra moment or two, then released it and sank into his own chair.

“And what were you thinking about?” Borandas inquired. He leaned back in his own chair, clasping his hands behind his head, and regarded his cousin a bit quizzically. “I don’t seem to remember you taking very long to think things over when you were younger, Brayahs!”

“Life was simpler when I was a runny-nosed brat pestering my grownup cousin,” Brayahs replied. “When you have so many fewer thoughts in your head, it doesn’t take as long to sort through them, you know.”

“I’ve heard that,” Borandas agreed, but his eyes also narrowed slightly, as if he’d caught a trace of something unexpected in his cousin’s expression or manner, and he lowered his hands, sitting upright once more. “And now that you’ve sorted through the ones currently rattling around in your head, what conclusions have you reached?”

“I’ve reached the conclusion that I have to take advantage of our kinship,” Brayahs said in a tone which had grown suddenly far more somber.

“Meaning what?” Borandas’ expression turned warier, and Brayahs drew a deep breath.

“Borandas, I’ve been the King’s man for three years now. In all that time, I’ve never approached you as the King’s man or in any way questioned any of the policies you’ve chosen to pursue here in the North Riding. And I have no instructions from His Majesty to do that now. Coming here this morning is my own decision, but I ask you as my kinsman and my Baron to hear me.”

Borandas looked at him silently, and the sounds of birds from beyond the open windows were clear and distinct in the stillness. Seconds trickled away, but then, finally, he nodded.

“Speak.” His voice was cooler, more formal, but he sat regarding his cousin levelly, and Brayahs glanced at Bronzehelm for just a moment. Then he squared his shoulders and faced the baron.

“You know I’m a mage. In fact, you know what my mage talents are.” He paused, and Borandas nodded again, slowly, his eyes suddenly very intent. “Then you’ll understand I know what I’m talking about when I tell you wizardry has been at work here in Halthan,” Brayahs said softly.

“ What? ” Borandas snapped fully upright in his chair, leaning forward, staring at him. Bronzehelm looked at him, as well, equally shocked, and Brayahs nodded.

“How?” the baron demanded. “Where?”

“I can’t say exactly how, or what the spell may have been,” the mage replied. “You know the limitations of my talents, as well. But I can tell you where it was cast.”

“Then tell me!” Borandas more than half-snapped, and Brayahs looked at him sadly.

“There,” he said…and pointed at Sir Dahlnar Bronzehelm.

“Are you certain about this, Brayahs?”

Borandas Daggeraxe’s face was twenty years older than it had been a half hour earlier, his eyes haunted, and Brayahs nodded unhappily.

“I’m afraid I am, and I wish I weren’t. But not as much as I wish I knew what the spell was supposed to do and how in Semkirk’s name anyone got into a position to cast it in the first place.” Brayahs’ jaw clenched. “And not as much as I wish that whoever the bastard is, he’d picked someone besides Dahlnar to cast it on!”

Myacha sat beside her husband, holding his left hand, her amethyst eyes huge and dark. Despite everything, she’d hoped desperately that the suspicion she’d awakened in Brayahs’ mind had been groundless.