David Weber - War Maid's choice

“I wish that, too,” the baron said now, his voice grim and harsh. He shook his head. “It’s not Dahlnar’s fault. I know that as well as the gods themselves do! But how can I ever trust him again now that he’s been…tampered with?”

“We’re not positive he has been,” Brayahs said, remembering the look in Bronzehelm’s eyes as he’d been gently but firmly escorted from Borandas’ office by no less than five Halthan armsmen. The seneschal’s shock had been only too evident, and there’d been a sort of ineffable horror under the shock. Yet there’d been no resistance. In fact, he’d been the first to suggest that Borandas had no choice but to confine him to his own quarters until they could determine what had been done to him…and by whom.

“Come now!” Borandas said even more harshly. “You detected the stench of wizardry both on him and in his office!”

“But what I smelled hadn’t been cast directly upon him,” Brayahs pointed out. “He was present when it was worked, and he obviously doesn’t remember it, but I’m detecting no indication he’s been arcanely altered. And you saw his eyes as well as I did, Borandas. He’s more horrified by the possibility that he’s been forced to betray your confidence than you could ever be.”

“Of course he is!” Borandas scowled. “He’s not just my seneschal-he’s my friend, and he would never have betrayed me in any way if the choice had been his! Do you think I don’t realize that?!”

“No, I’m sure you do,” Brayahs replied. “And I think it’s evident he has been influenced-unknowingly and against his will-whether it was done arcanely or not. There are many ways that could have been done by someone who’d managed to gain access to him and worked his way into his confidence, and not all of them require wizardry. If it was done without using sorcery, I think a good mind healer could almost certainly find and repair the damage, now that he knows there’s something there to look for. And if it was done using sorcery, then I think once the Council of Semkirk gets word to Wencit, he’ll be able to undo whatever it was.” He smiled sadly at his cousin. “Dahlnar’s too good a man for us to allow this-whatever ‘this’ is — to take him away from you forever, Borandas. I promise we’ll do everything we can to give him back to you and to himself.”

The baron continued to stare searchingly into Brayahs’ face for a dozen more heartbeats, and then he slowly relaxed-a little-and sucked in a deep, deep breath.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and turned his head to smile at his wife when Myacha squeezed his hand in both of hers.

“You’re welcome,” Brayahs said, “but we still have to decide what to do about this.”

“‘We’?” Borandas repeated, arching one eyebrow, and Brayahs shrugged.

“ You have to decide what to do here in Halthan, and what the North Riding as a whole is going to do about it, Milord,” he said much more formally. “As the King’s man, I already know what I have to do.”

Borandas grimaced, but he also nodded, and turned back to Myacha.

“I should’ve listened to you, love,” he said, and his expression tightened once more. “And now I have to decide how far I can trust Thorandas, as well.”

His voice hardened with the last sentence, and Myacha’s eyes went dark with distress.

“You don’t know that whatever’s happened has anything at all to do with Thorandas,” she said quickly.

“No?” He looked into those eyes for several seconds, then shrugged. “You’re right, I don’t know anything of the sort, but given how radically Dahlnar’s advice changed-and how strongly he supported Thorandas’ positions after it did change-I have no choice but to consider the possibility that Thorandas was

the one behind it, now do I?”

She stared back at him, unshed tears gleaming. Then one of those tears broke loose, trickling down her cheek, and she shook her head.

“For what it’s worth, I agree you have to consider the possibility, Milord,” Brayahs said with that same formality. “At the same time, I would respectfully point out to you that Thorandas’ positions haven’t changed anywhere near so radically as Dahlnar’s, and I’ve seldom met a man more aware of the dangers of wizardry then your son.” He shook his head. “I don’t see any more reason for his position on that to have changed than for it to have changed on anything else.”

“If not him, then who?” Borandas demanded bitterly.

“I have my own candidate in mind,” Brayahs replied in a grim voice. “The problem is that I can’t be sure how much my own prejudices are shaping my suspicions at this point.”

“You’re thinking about Cassan.” Borandas’s voice was even grimmer than his cousin’s, and the mage nodded.

“The gods know he’s demonstrated there are very few things he’d be prepared to stop short of, Milord, and he has to have been growing steadily more desperate. If Tellian gains the Crown’s full-blooded support for his present policies-and everything I’ve seen and heard in Sothofalas suggests he will, if he hasn’t already-any chance Cassan might ever have had of regaining the ground he’s lost will be gone forever. I have no idea what that’s likely to do to a man like him, but I think it’s certainly possible he’d be willing to resort even to wizardry as a means of getting what he wants.”

“And Dahlnar’s convincing me to support Thorandas’ betrothal to his daughter would be what he wants, wouldn’t it?”

“It would certainly be a long step in that direction, at any rate,” Brayahs agreed. “But there are those who oppose Tellian’s plans for reasons that have nothing to do with Cassan’s ambitions, and I’ve always thought Thorandas was one of them. So I think it’s entirely possible-and far more probable-that he’s simply taken advantage of Thorandas’ existing opposition to Tellian. Your son loves you, Borandas,” he said much more gently. “He always has, and I’ve seen nothing to suggest that’s changed in any way. It’s far more likely he’s being used without even being aware of it than that he would not only betray your trust but resort to the sort of dark sorcery that tampers with another man’s mind.”

“He’s right, Borandas,” Myacha said softly. “You know he’s right.”

“I know I want him to be right,” the baron whispered. “And that’s the problem. I want him to be right so desperately that I dare not assume he is. Not until the truth’s proven one way or the other. And how will Thorandas feel when he realizes I’ve considered even the possibility that he might have committed treason against me? And against the Crown, if he truly has resorted to wizardry?”

“He’ll realize you had no choice, Milord,” Brayahs told him.

“I pray you’re right,” Borandas said.

“I believe I am. And, with your permission,” the mage stood, “I need to be on my way. His Majesty has to be informed that someone’s using sorcery in an effort to manipulate the Kingdom’s great nobles.”

“What will-?”

Borandas broke off, unable to complete the question, and Brayahs smiled at him a bit sadly.

“What will I tell him, Milord?” He moved his right hand in a tossing away gesture. “I’ll tell him I’ve detected the residue of sorcery on your seneschal and adviser, that Sir Dahlnar’s advice to you has changed dramatically over the last month or two, and how that advice has shifted. From that point, the decision of how to proceed will be his, but if he asks me, I’ll advise the dispatch of a team of mage investigators to Halthan to determine how far all of this might extend. My own talents don’t include truth-reading, but at least two of his Crown magi do have that talent. If he sends them here to investigate and they interview Thorandas, they’ll know the truth about any involvement of his in this affair. Personally, I think they’ll find he knew nothing about it-that he’ll be as horrified and infuriated by it as you and Dahlnar. And”-he looked into his cousin’s eyes-“the questions will be posed by the Crown, and by the magi, Milord…not by his father.”