David Weber - War Maid's choice

“And it’s wondering I’ve been where you’d gotten yourself to,” Bahzell said.

“Listening with bated breath while Sir Jerhas beats the speaker of the Kraithalyr about the head and ears-figuratively speaking, of course-about the Crown’s new attitude towards war maids,” Wencit of Rum said. He shook his head. “I’m getting just a bit tired of sitting around ominously while he does that.”

“Sure, and I’m thinking that’s what you’re after getting for being such a figure of legend, and all,” Bahzell told him, and the old wizard snorted.

“‘Figure of legend,’ is it, Bahzell Bloody Hand? At least no one’s trying to call me ‘Devil-Slayer’!”

“And if it’s all the same, I’d sooner no one would be calling me that, either,” Bahzell said in a much grimmer tone, and Leeana laid one hand on his forearm.

“No one’s forgetting all the others who died on the Ghoul Moor, Bahzell,” Wencit said much more gently. “And no one’s forgetting what happened at Chergor, either, Leeana.” He inclined his head slightly to her, although his eyes remained on Bahzell’s face. “But the truth is-and you know it as well as I do, Bahzell-that it’s what happened there that makes all of this possible.”

He waved one hand at the courtyard, where the Dwarvenhame delegation was in the process of being ushered up the steps into the main keep, and after a moment, Bahzell nodded.

As Sir Kelthys had observed that dreadful day, no one had truly seen one of Krashnark’s greater devils since the Fall of Kontovar itself. Indeed, their appearances even in Kontovar had been more matters of legend than confirmed fact. But with twenty thousand witnesses, not even the most skeptical Sothoii was inclined to doubt that was exactly what Trianal’s army had faced.

The price that army-and the Order of Tomanak-had paid to stop them had been horrific. Vaijon was only one of the eight thousand dead they’d suffered. Yurgazh Charkson would not be returning to Navahk. Over half the Hurgrum Chapter had died. Sir Yarran Battlecrow would spend the remainder of his life with one leg. Half of Tharanalalknarthas zoi’Harkanath’s barge crews had died, and Tharanal himself had lost his left hand to a ghoul’s jaws. He’d been thrusting a dagger down the creature’s throat at the moment those jaws closed.

Losses among the hradani infantry who’d held that line against the avalanche of ghouls had been especially heavy. Hurgrum would be years recovering from all the sons she’d lost that day, but their deaths had accomplished far more than simply clearing the line of the Hangnysti for the Derm Canal project. The Sothoii who’d been there with them, who’d shared that day of blood and carnage, had carried the tale of that grisly field back to the Wind Plain, and those battle companions had been…disinclined to listen to any more anti-hradani bigotry. It wasn’t just the fighting men of the West Riding anymore, either. Prince Yurokhas and his royal brother had seen to it that the truth of that fight had been spread far and wide.

It had come hard on the heels of the news of the assassination attempt at Chergor. Of the treason of Baron Cassan…and of the King’s rescue by the despised war maids of Kalatha. Some had tried to give the credit to Trisu of Lorham, instead, but Trisu would have none of it. Stubborn and stiff-necked he might be, but no man who lived could doubt Trisu of Lorham’s honesty or call him liar, and he’d already thrashed one particularly bigoted minor lord warden within an inch of his life for daring to impugn the war maids’ contribution.

They were the ones who’d discovered the plot in the first place, he’d told the spectators, standing over the semiconscious body of his opponent in the middle of the lists. It was a war maid, not one of his armsmen who’d carried the warning to Chergor in time. Who’d fought-unarmored and on foot-to save their King. Who’d claimed the traitor’s head and delivered it to King Markhos. And it was her sisters who’d taken Cassan’s armsmen in the flank and produced the victory his outnumbered armsmen-and, he’d added rather pointedly, the Quaysar Temple Guard and the Arm of Lillinara who’d commanded it-could not have won without them. In fact, he’d finished, one foot resting on the breastplate of the opponent who’d finally begun to stir once more, without the war maids of Kalatha, King Markhos would be dead, and Baron Tellian with him, and the traitor who’d killed them might very well have been named regent for Crown Prince Norandhor.

It had been quite a performance, and he’d capped it by escorting Shahana Lillinarafressa to the great banquet Baron Tellian had decreed (with King Markhos’ strong support) in honor of those selfsame war maids. He’d danced no less than six of that evening’s dances with Shahana, as well, and Bahzell had spotted the two of them with their heads together over tankards of beer well after everyone else had left for home or rolled unconscious under one of the tables. (With so many war maids in attendance, it had inevitably turned into that sort of party before the night was over.)

The sheer shock of the attempt on Markhos’ life, not to mention the disreputable nature of his rescuers, had rippled through the Kingdom of the Sothoii like the outrider of an earthquake. And then had come the terrifying news that greater devils had been seen for the first time in twelve centuries-and seen here, in Norfressa.

The majority of Norfressans had half-forgotten that they and their ancestors had ever lived anywhere else. They knew the tales and they sang the ballads, but aside from the historians among them, Kontovar was no longer truly real to them. It was a legend, a cautionary tale, something that had happened long ago to someone else entirely, and they’d grown accustomed over the centuries to coping with the handful of the Dark’s servants and creatures who emerged into the Light from time to time without sparing much thought for the Council of Carnadosa or the wizard lords of Kontovar who lay on the far side of an ocean, half a world away from Norfressa.

It was probable, Bahzell thought, that the majority of Norfressans still felt that way about it, but not the Sothoii. Not anymore.

It hadn’t happened overnight, although it probably seemed that way to many. It had actually begun with Krahana’s attack on the Warm Springs coursers, he knew, although he wasn’t surprised no one really seemed to have noticed at the time. Shigu’s strike at the Quaysar Temple of Lillinara and the war maids had been far less disturbing to the Sothoii in general than the murder of so many coursers, yet not even the coursers’ deaths had been enough to pull most of the Sothoii away from their concentration on their hatred for their more traditional enemies at the foot of the Wind Plain. Not even the Hurgrum Chapter’s role in freeing the coursers’ souls had been enough to change that. Not quite.

But like the first stones in an avalanche, those events had started something far greater than anyone would have guessed at the time. Not all of the Sothoii had gone peacefully back to sleep afterward. Some had started paying attention, and when Tellian, Kilthan, and Bahnak had begun their great canal scheme, others had paid heed, as well. Not all of them happily, perhaps, but it had gotten them looking in the right direction.

And then had come the Battle of the Hangnysti and the proof-the proof no one could ignore-that the threat of the Dark remained only too real…and that the Dark was determined that those trying to bring peace between hradani and Sothoii would fail.

They were a stubborn people, the Sothoii. It wasn’t in them to change their minds quickly or easily. Indeed, they were uncomfortably like Bahzell’s own people in that regard. But whatever else they might be, they weren’t stupid. No one doubted that the Dark had been involved in the attempt on Markhos, as well, especially since the mage investigators probing that plot had already confirmed that Cassan had been involved with at least one dark wizard. And if the Dark who’d tried to murder their King also wanted to prevent them from somehow achieving a just peace and friendship with the hated hradani, why, the Sothoii were more than stubborn enough to do just that and laugh in the Dark’s teeth.