David Weber - War Maid's choice

‹ You truly think so?› The notion clearly distressed Gayrfressa, and Leeana leaned her shoulders comfortingly back against the mare.

‹ I don’t have any evidence of that except for the fact that he’s from the East Riding,› she admitted, ‹ and the fact that he’s casting aspersions on Father isn’t exactly calculated to help me look at him less suspiciously. But that’s obviously what he’s suggesting, whatever his motives are, and Father can’t argue against it too strongly without making anyone else who might be inclined to wonder about his own motives-like Swordshank-wonder even harder.›

“I agree His Majesty’s safety has to be our paramount concern,” Tellian said. His tone was still neutral, but the chipped-flint anger under the neutrality was painfully evident to his daughter. “However, Chergor was never intended as a place to be seriously defended. Its wall’s unlikely to do more than inconvenience a determined assailant, and even if it weren’t, we have too few men to man it adequately.”

“But if there’s a wizard involved, and if he’s using his accursed sorcery to spy upon us,” another of the King’s gentlemen-in-waiting said, “he’ll be able to steer any attackers directly to us, wherever we might be. This is the only place Lord Trisu knows to find us, on the other hand. If we leave, he may never make contact with us-in time, at any rate.”

“Exactly.” Golden Hill looked earnestly at King Markhos. “Your Majesty, Lord Trisu did precisely what he ought to have done. He sent his message to you here by his swiftest courier, so that your personal Guard might be forewarned. But according to his letter, he also sent couriers to Balthar and Sothofalas. The instant those couriers reach their destinations, scores of additional armsmen will be sent directly here. In the meantime, Lord Trisu will arrive to reinforce us. Surely the wisest course is to wait until he does and then determine where-if anywhere-it would be wiser for Your Majesty to go.”

Leeana Hanathafressa was no mage, but as she looked around the faces of the men gathered about her father and her King, she needed no mage talent to realize what the decision was going to be.

“Fiendark fly away with them!”

Varnaythus looked up from his gramerhain quickly, eyes narrowing. Sahrdohr was glaring into his own stone, and his earlier smile had turned into a snarl of fury.

“What?” the senior wizard asked sharply, and Sahrdohr raised his head to look at him, gray eyes fiery.

“I don’t think your trap spell killed that bastard Brayahs after all,” he grated.

“What?” Varnaythus’ eyes narrowed further, into mere slits. “Why not?”

“Because that bitch daughter of Tellian’s just arrived at Chergor on her damned courser, that’s why!” Sahrdohr snarled.

“ What?! ”

Varnaythus wasn’t normally the sort who repeated himself, but he did this time. And then he snatched himself up out of his chair and took two explosive strides to look over Sahrdohr’s shoulder. The images in someone else’s gramerhain were never as clear for any wizard as the ones in his own, but Varnaythus could make out enough to see the huge chestnut mare standing in the hunting lodge’s courtyard and the tall, slim young woman who’d arrived upon her back. He leaned closer, craning his neck as if listening, then scowled darkly.

“What the hell is causing that racket?” he demanded harshly. “Can you hear what they’re saying?”

“Not very well,” Sahrdohr replied in a distinctly unhappy tone. “Something’s affecting the scrying. It’s almost like a counter glamour, but not quite.” His expression was as disgusted as it was angry. “If I had to guess-and that’s all the hell I can do at this point-it’s that damned wedding bracelet of hers. Carnadosa only knows what sort of effect an artifact like that’s going to have on fine control spells like this! But whatever it is, it’s not fully effective. Vision isn’t too bad, and at least a little sound is getting through. I can read their lips if they turn their heads the right way, and even with all that background noise, I can actually catch at least a little of what they’re saying. That’s how I heard one of them mention Brayahs by name…which leads me to suspect he’s nowhere near as dead as we’d prefer.”

“Damn.” Varnaythus spoke almost mildly, but his eyes were ugly. “How in all of Krahana’s hells did he manage to survive?”

“If it’s any consolation, I’d guess he didn’t survive by much,” Sahrdohr replied, waving one hand at the gramerhain. “A courser can carry double farther and faster than any regular horse. If he hadn’t been banged up pretty badly, he’d damned well have come along with her, if only to make sure they believed her when she got there. As it is, I think it least some of the King’s companions-like Golden Hill, for example-are feeling just a little suspicious of friend Tellian at the moment.” He produced something much more like a smile. “The fact that his disgraced and degenerate daughter ‘just happened’ to end up as the messenger seems to be putting their backs up. Looks like a lot of them are thinking about all the ways they could have arranged for something like this to work to their benefit.”

“Thank Carnadosa for ambition,” Varnaythus replied with sour fervor, his brow furrowed while he thought hard. Then he crossed back to his own chair, waved his hand over his gramerhain, and muttered a word of command.

The images of Bahzell, Vaijon, Trianal, and their marching army vanished, replaced by Arthnar Fire Oar’s mercenaries. They were riding hard, if not so hard as he might have wished, given Sahrdohr’s news, and his lips tightened.

“Did the war maids send her all by herself, or are they following her with reinforcements?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Sahrdohr replied. “From the bits and pieces I’ve been able to actually hear, I think they probably have. I’m backtracking along the shortest route from Kalatha to Chergor, though, and I haven’t found anyone yet. I think-”

He broke off, leaning more intently over his gramerhain, then grunted unhappily.

“They did send more,” he said sourly. “I’ve got what looks like seventy-five or a hundred horses, most of them carrying double, and they’re making good time despite the weight.”

“ How good?” Varnaythus demanded.

“They’re probably four hours out. More probably five.” Sahrdohr shook his head. “To be that close behind her, they must have gotten themselves assembled right on her heels.”

“Horses?” Varnaythus looked up again. “Where the hell did they find that many mounted war maids?”

“They aren’t all war maids.” Sahrdohr grimaced. “It looks like a third of them are Trisu of Lorham’s armsmen. And another third are in the colors of the Quaysar Temple Guard. In fact, one of them looks an awful lot like that busybody Shahana.”

“Wonderful.” Varnaythus suppressed a strong desire to spit on the floor and looked back at his own gramerhain.

“Well,” he said flatly after a moment, “Arthnar’s cutthroats aren’t more than a couple of hours from Chergor right this minute, and Cassan isn’t more than another two hours behind them. So they should both reach their target before Trisu and Shahana can interfere.”

“Phrobus, what a mess!” Sahrdohr muttered.

“It should still work,” Varnaythus countered. “As long as Tellian doesn’t manage to convince the King’s armsmen to pull out in the next hour and a half, at least. ‘Captain’ Traram has enough men to overwhelm Markhos’ party even without Cassan, and Cassan has more than twice as many men as he does. They should be finished and done by the time Trisu and Shahana get there.”